


This Is Who I Am

by Jumping_Girl_Juliet



Category: Grasshopper Movie, Waltz Manga, Yamada Ryosuke as Semi, Yamada Ryosuke in Grasshopper
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe, Assassination, Child Abuse, Cutting, Depression, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female on Male Violence, Hey Say Jump - Freeform, Language, Mental Illness, Murder, NSFW, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Self Harm, Violence, Yamada Ryosuke - Freeform, child trafficking, it is hey say jump related even if someone whines about it, male on female violence, this is based on him and his character, yamada ryosuke played semi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:38:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11616030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jumping_Girl_Juliet/pseuds/Jumping_Girl_Juliet
Summary: WOW...so someone reported this fic because I have it tagged with Hey! Say! Jump...because you know, they can't just scroll past the work despite it most certainly being HSJ related--instead they have to ruin it so that the audience it is actually for--THE HEY SAY JUMP FANDOM--will not be able to find it.This fiction is based on the character that Yamada Ryosuke plays in the film adaptation of Grasshopper. It may not feature Ryosuke as the idol, but it does feature him as Semi--it is decidedly AU. There is NO audience for Grasshopper related fics, the only purpose for this fic and the ONLY audience it is written for is the JUMP Fandom. THIS WORK IS something that Yama-chan or Hey! Say! JUMP fans would be interested in, removing the HSJ tag will make it impossible for those fans to find it.Summary:  The story of Semi after the death of Iwanishi. Semi is 22 years old in this story.





	1. This Is Who I Am.

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys, so…this story has pretty much every trigger.
> 
> Not even kidding. I can only think of one that isn’t there which is ‘eating disorder’ but there IS a related element to food/drink and I just can’t even say it won’t trigger someone.
> 
> So here’s my exhaustive list of triggers, and please, understand–I may even miss some!
> 
> *violence, blood, gore, murder, death, horrible death, gratuitous violence, male on female violence, female on male violence, so much violence, completely ridiculous amount of profanity, manipulation, child abuse, parent death, family violence, domestic violence, kidnapping, sex slavery, child trafficking, horrible people, terrible adults, male prostitution, a precursor to rape–though the act does not happen, the scene leading up to the actual scene itself is VERY NEARLY a rape scene, uncontrollable anger, rage, mental illness, sociopaths, psychopathy, torture, black outs, cutting, depression, anxiety, self harm, self-destruction, trauma, abuse…
> 
> PLEASE UNDERSTAND–this story IS NOTa story about Yamada Ryosuke. This is NOT a story about an actor playing a character. This story is about the fictional character of Semi, who was played by Yamada Ryosuke in the movie adaptation. NOTHING here is in any way related to Yamada Ryosuke the Idol. AT ALL.

 

**Please note: before starting the story you may want to check out my reference post located {[HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11616030/chapters/26116797) } as there is background information such as home layout, playlist, reference images, and character development details that could help you enjoy the story more!**

* * *

Yeah,  yeah, I know, I know, it’s a little bright, a little flashy, but hey, I just want to make sure you are aware, just so I can sleep at night, that this story is LOADED with triggers. If you have them, I recommend skipping the story because chances are it is either in this or somehow referenced lol Sorry to be so annoying but PLEASE use wisdom before reading!

**PS: THIS IS NOT A STORY ABOUT YAMADA RYOSUKE. THIS IS A STORY ABOUT THE FICTIONAL CHARACTER HE PORTRAYED IN THE MOVIE ADAPTATION, SEMI.**

* * *

**This Is Who I Am: A Semi Story**

* * *

## Part 1

* * *

Semi walked into the apartment, frustrated and angry at the way things had gone. Too slow, too loud, everything was too much. He normally enjoyed the reprieve eliminating his target offered him, somehow, he found something captivating about the crimson color as it splashed against the sheer plastic surface of his coat, the way he could see the fragility of life as it slowly drained out of what was once some semblance of living thing. Maybe just barely living, who knew without their bubbles–but still, he usually had positive feelings, not negative–these things he savored under ordinary circumstances, but today, it just made the sounds in his head louder, not silent. 

The picture on the counter of the man’s family was the last straw and he knew he needed to find a new benefactor or get out of the business because he wasn’t in the habit of assassinating people who weren’t actually part of the underworld. Being an assassin might not seem like a proper profession for someone to have an, albeit twisted, moral high ground, but for his own purposes and goals, he wasn’t into gratuitous violence, despite how he knew others saw him.

Well, he might like to think that, but it was only a fairly recent change in his thought processes—because frankly, someone had the audacity to tell him “your job is to kill, you kill what we tell you to, you don’t get to decide if they deserve it or not—you do what the hell I tell you to do.” Which ended up with the man’s head nearly cut off his neck, though not before Semi had told him in no uncertain terms that no one tells him what to do.

_No one._

A new thought emerged from the experience, and he decided then and there that he certainly had the right, nay, the responsibility to decide if someone deserved to die or not. While he’d never walked away from a scene yet, he might, he liked the option to be there, and now on his own terms it was.

That said, today, he didn’t necessarily think the man deserved to die, and it was causing his own skin to feel like it was crawling, something under the surface moving—because he’d killed the man and  _maybe_  he didn’t deserve it, but he needed peace, and killing offered him a brief respite from his demons.

That didn’t happen though, not today. Not this time.

He liked to complete a job with purpose, with substance—even if it was just that the person was disgustingly weak, that was enough.

That…and he just liked it. Liked the blood. Like the death. Liked it. He felt alive, it was the only time he could see his own bubbles. The noise was silent. The world made sense, but only when he was swinging his knife.

All weak things die. It is the natural order of things. If he was capable of killing it, then it deserved to die—otherwise, he would be killed, and that would mean he deserved to die. It was the nature of reality, that’s all. The inevitable end to us all. Death is the most natural thing in the world. We are dying the moment we take our first breath. Humans were of no value to him at any rate—he found most of them to be annoying at best, and dancing across his last nerve at worst, even if their only crime was to make eye contact with him.

Killing someone because they were weak, that? That made sense to him. Killing because you don’t like someone, or you want to get with their wife, or something equally as inane was the stupidest reason he could think of to kill someone. 

To him, there was at least a level of respect, of understanding between him and his victims. If they were criminals, lowlife, weak—they were disposable, they knew the clock was always ticking on their time, they understood at least the meaning behind his actions, without that, what did they see? What did they paint him as? What were their last thoughts of him? Did he leave an impression?

With today’s target there was no doubt, and it was utterly unacceptable, because that man wasn’t thinking of Semi at all. He was thinking of his family, of his wife and children, his eyes fixated on the damn picture he’d placed on the dingy surface of the dresser in the hotel room he was staying at.

_No more._

Slamming the door shut, kicking it for good measure, he was furious as he crossed the foyer to walk into the living room, glancing around and stopping short, his already prominent frown deepening when his eyes landed on the figure asleep on the couch, not even moving despite the slamming door and his stomping feet.

He stormed over to the couch, eyes widening when he saw the comforter from his bed wrapped around them, lifting his leg to shove the person’s shoulder with his foot harshly, “Get the fuck up and get out, this isn’t your damn house, Aoi!”

The form moved, sitting up abruptly, rubbing her eyes, yawning widely as she shuffled the blanket down off her body. Adjusting her shirt lazily, before she reached over like a flash, picking something up off the coffee table, her arm shooting forward toward Semi’s abdomen, before his hand snatched out and caught her wrist, twisting it sideways until she dropped the small dagger she’d tried to stab him with.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? I could have killed you in your sleep thirty seconds ago,” he hissed, the hand that wasn’t holding her wrist having grabbed her hair, jerking her forward so her face was close enough she could smell the odd mixture of amber and drying blood on his body, “Stop trying to fucking kill me, you stupid fucking idiot, you’re not nearly skilled enough.”

He released her hand and head at the same time, tossing her backwards on the couch like she was a rag doll, kicking the knife across the room, then turning to stomp over to the sink where he turned the hot water on full force, hands planted on the edge of the counter, breathing heavily as he shook his head, desperate to get the noise to abate, even if for only a moment.

Aoi glared at the back of his form, his trademark raincoat splattered with crimson, rubbing her head where it felt like he’d ripped a chunk of her hair out, hissing, “I won’t always be. One day, I’ll be strong enough.”

He stilled, his entire body like a statue, the only sound in the room the running water, “I want you to leave.”

“No,” she stated firmly, “I’ve as much right to be here as you do.”

“Fuck you!” he shouted, hands white from the force he was gripping the counter with.

_Damn you, Iwanishi! Damn you! Damn you!_

_How the fuck did you have another assassin the whole time!? I thought you were my friend, I thought I was special to you, fucking bastard! You go and die, and then here this little girl comes crawling out of the gutter as soon as you’re fucking dead!_

Semi had about had it, for the week, for the month, for the whole damned year, because it was one thing to deal with the death of his mentor and friend, Iwanishi, but an entirely other beast to try to handle the mess he’d left behind, starting with the little assassin girl who wouldn’t get the fuck out of his life.

_How the fuck does she even kill people, she’s like ninety pounds and maybe four feet five inches tall._

A few days after Iwanishi had been murdered, Semi had come to his apartment, wanting to feel close to him, and sure enough, the minute he’d entered the space he’d felt peace, he’d felt more solace than he’d felt in a long time, the noise smaller, less invasive in this space, and he started spending more and more time there to keep the sounds at bay and try to figure out what he should do.

He’d noticed strange things though. Items not being where he left them, different scents, strange noises—he was a sociopath, was walking on wobbly mental ground most of the time, and a cold-blooded assassin but he knew this wasn’t in his head. Something was really going on.

He’d arrived home nearly nine months ago, a normal day from all appearances, but as soon as he entered the room, the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end as he could tell something wasn’t right. 

Something was  _more wrong than normal_  at least. 

He stood still for the longest time, and then he felt it, a presence, something from the side of the room where the record player was, by the curtains, and he slowly moved toward it, and the moment he realized that it was a person behind the flowing drapes he dove for them, grabbing them down, ripping the curtains off the wall, and had them in a choke hold instantly, knife at their throat.

The person wasn’t to be taken lightly, and managed to break free, scrambling up and around to point their own knife at Semi. He had blinked, shocked to find that the person fighting him didn’t shake, didn’t back down, and looked him directly in the eyes. 

She was small, too small, too fragile, she looked breakable, but at the same time, she was fierce, her eyes held the right kind of crazy, earning his respect, and the pointed end of her hand meant business, earning his patience.

He’d found out that she was another one of Iwanishi’s kids that he’d taken under his freakishly broken wing—which translated roughly to trained to be a blood thirsty assassin. She’d known about Semi, but he hadn’t been told about her because Iwanishi was concerned he would kill her.

_He was probably right. I still want to fucking kill her._

Semi slapped the water off, turning around and storming across the room. Aoi was prepared for him this time, standing up on the couch and leaping forward to land on him as soon as he was close enough. Her fingers dove for his eyes, a string of curse words filling the air as she scratched his face, his hands snapping forward to punch her in the abdomen and throat at the same time.

She dropped to the floor, hands clenching her throat, gasping for air, desperately trying to breath as it felt like he’d collapsed her windpipe.

For his own part, Semi sat down on the seat beside her, watching curiously as she rolled on the floor, struggling to breath, reaching up to touch his cheek where a drop of blood was forming from the scratch she’d managed to land, moving his hand forward to look at it. For a moment he was mesmerized, the red color of the blood so bright against his pale skin, and then his eyes drifted to the floor where Aoi was still gasping, her eyes wide as she stared at him, and he wondered if he’d miscalculated and hit her too hard?

_No, I know my weight and strength, and I definitely didn’t hit her too hard, she’s just panicking is all, and that’s making her hyperventilate and well, sure, I guess she might pass out, who knows…_

He couldn’t look away, his eyes wide and fixed on her mouth as she gasped, struggled to breath, the fragile string between life and death apparent to him even now, even though he was positive the tether only existed in her own mind.

_Though…she is kinda turning blue._

_Damn it._

“Fucking idiot!” he slid down off the cushion to sit on the floor, her eyes growing impossibly wider, her body trying to retreat, as he scooched closer, clamping a hand on her leg and dragging her to him, “If I was going to kill you I sure as hell would have, calm the fuck down.”

He reached over to put his hand under her neck, lifting upward, causing her head to tilt backward, and instantly she was able to take a full breath, her eyes flittering over to his, confusion marring her expression as she gasped again.

“Just calm the fuck down,” he hissed at her, his expression severe as he stared at her, “You’re making it harder to breath by being so out of control.”

He watched her hand move out of the corner of his eye, and he tilted his head, eyes narrowing, as it slid down her chest, leaning forward to look directly into her eyes, “I swear to God, if you reach for another weapon, I will fucking end you, right here, right now. No more games.”

Her hand froze, her eyes moving from one of his eyes to the other before she let it slide down to lay flat on the floor beside her, his eyes softening in an unexpected response, as he nodded, “Good girl.”

Secure that she wasn’t actually going to die, he stood up, moving back to the sink and turned on the hot water to wash again, looking down at the blood, now completely dried he cursed, jerking the raincoat off to leave it in the sink to dispose of, stomping to the bathroom to take a shower, pausing at the doorway to glance back at Aoi who was still on the floor, sitting up now, but staring at him, “I want you gone when I get out.”

* * *

## Part 2

* * *

He’d completed a seriously disgusting assignment for some lowlife across town who’d heard he’d fallen on hard times. Fact was, he had been dependent on Iwanishi to take care of the niceties with people so he only had to do the deed not negotiate or deal with the clients. This whole having to smile and be congenial was a bunch of bullshit and kept him firmly on the edge 24/7. 

He’d taken a shower as there was no way the sink was going to be enough to get the amount of blood out of his hair—fucking target—must have had high blood pressure or something because when he hit their neck, it was like a geyser spewing out all over him. Fucking disgusting, he wanted to kill them, but didn’t want to bathe in their blood. The shower was neither refreshing or pleasant, the water feeling like sandpaper on his skin and the noises so loud that the sound of the shower couldn’t even drown them out. He wrapped a towel around his waist, drying his hair quickly with the other one, walking out to the kitchen wanting something to eat. He’d just turned to open the fridge when he froze, “I thought I told you to not to come back here?”

“How do you do that?”

His hand clenched the handle of the refrigerator tighter, scowling, “Do what?”

“How can you tell that someone is in the room with you? I was completely silent, I know you didn’t hear me come in, I specifically waited until you were in the shower, so  _how_ did you know I was here?”

He tilted his head sideways, still frozen in place, considering the question, “I can just tell, the air in the room is different.”

“Can you teach me?”

“No, now get out,” he opened the door, looking at the sparse contents, frowning.

“I’ll make you dinner if you’ll teach me,” she hedged.

Semi turned to look at her, she wasn’t wearing her normal sweatpants and t-shirt, clearly, she was meaning to go out on a mission as she was wearing her damn ‘jail bait’ outfit that made her look like she was fourteen—and innocent, which allowed her to get into places that no one else could get into. At least she worked her advantages, he had to admire that.

“What kind of dinner?” He frowned, not sure he should even entertain this kind of thinking.

“Whatever you want, I wasn’t always  _this_ , I had a family, I learned to cook beside my Mom, I can make lots of things,” she stood up, walking over to the kitchen, her short skirt swishing with each step, and he couldn’t help but stare, because he’d never seen her like this, she’d only described this outfit to him in passing as one of her many methods of movement without suspicion.

_To be so short she’s got really long legs._

_Shut the fuck up._

_Make me._

_I’m starving._

“I’m too hungry to wait for you tonight, but tomorrow?” he asked, reaching into the fridge to pull out a container of take out that he’d had the day before, intent on warming it up.

“Sure…but will you teach me now? I have an assignment…”

“Fine, let me eat.”

He didn’t’ bother with warming up the food, sitting down on the couch, not really paying much attention to anything as he ate until he noticed she was staring at him, “What do you  _want_?”

“You need to put some clothes on,” she murmured, shaking her head, eyes darting from him to the wall behind him quickly.

He glanced down, still wearing the towel, and sure it wasn’t clothes, but it covered everything important, and besides that she didn’t have to look, “Am I making you uncomfortable,  _Princess_?”

“Shut up,” she hissed, “It’s not like that…I just…. whatever,” she stood up going to the kitchen and grabbing a soda, opening it and taking a long drink from it.

“Sure, sure,” he responded, walking over to throw away the container, then stepping up behind her where she stood facing out the kitchen window, his hands coming up to cover her eyes, causing her to yelp, “Shut up, I’m teaching you.”

She stilled, not happy with having her vision stolen, not completely trusting him either, though his voice held a note of something that soothed her when he spoke, “You have to learn to get rid of all of the distractions, your eyes, they are the worse, they deceive you, don’t be so hasty to believe what they tell you. You also have to get rid of sounds because they lie, implicitly, you have to feel the room with every inch of your skin, the depth, the width, the furniture in between, the whole room it has a bounce that comes back to you when you send the question out.”

She really had no idea what he was talking about, his words were real words, but they were blurred in her mind as he whispered them, even if they made sense in the first place, because all she could process was how close he was. His breath rushing against the back of her ear as he spoke, his hands soft and firm on her eyes, those hands that had seen and done so much, yet so delicate as they held her eyes closed–and the smell, now just amber and cool fresh air–not the normal pungent smell of blood and sweat and invincibility, and his body was so warm pressed up against her and without thought, she shifted backward, just a fraction of an inch, but it was enough.

Semi froze, his words caught in his throat, a small choking sound coming out, as he dropped his hands, turning to leave the room, “Never mind, I-I can’t teach you this.”

“What are you afraid of?” Her voice came out as a whisper, but he heard it, he knew what she said, and he twisted, staring at her profile, eyes narrowed.

“I’m not fucking scared of anything.”

“You are, though,” she turned her head to look at him, “You don’t want to be near me, and I don’t understand why. You flinch when I get too close to you, what is that about?”

“None of your damn business, that’s what,” he hissed, his eyes full of an unspoken threat before he stormed from the room, the sound of the slamming bedroom door resonating in her heart.

* * *

## Part 3

* * *

He was perched on the large seat he’d moved over to the window, his legs stretched out to rest on the sill, eating an apple, staring at the clouds and trying his best to ignore her as she moved around his space. 

“Can you just sit the hell down, you’re driving me fucking crazy!” He spat over his shoulder before resuming his cloud watching.

“I’m cleaning, you dumbass, it wouldn’t kill you to try to take care of some of this mess sometimes.”

He shifted in his seat, turning so he could look over the room, finding her scrubbing the top of the coffee table, his eyes moving around the space, his brows furrowed, “I don’t see anything.”

Her eyes shot up to his, raising her hand to swipe across her brow, “I swear I hate you sometimes, Semi.”

His eyes shifted to stare at her blankly, hissing, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you’re a damned idiot! Seriously, you don’t see anything because I’ve been working my ass off cleaning up the mess in ‘your’ fucking house.”

“You can stop, because you’re damn right, it is my fucking house, so you can leave,” he turned back to face the light outside, “I don’t need you here, I don’t want you here, I’m fine alone.”

“We’re both alone, Semi,” she whispered, her voice holding a note of something he didn’t recognize, “I—I haven’t been alone before…. were…you alone before?”

His entire body froze, he didn’t like this. Didn’t like the conversation. Didn’t like the questions. Didn’t want to answer them. Didn’t want to reveal anything, not to her, not to anyone.

“I’ve always been alone.”

_Fucking what the fucking fuck did you say that for!?_

“Always?”

“Yes, except for Iwanishi, when he found me, he took me in and saw my potential, my talent, and he told me I was good at it and I wasn’t alone anymore.” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes, “He made things make sense, taught me to be better at it. And then he died, like everyone.”

“You’re not alone now, you know, now I’m here, if you’d let me be.”

He turned his head, glaring at her, not liking the tone, the way the words felt on his skin, shaking his head, “I am  _still_  alone.”

He stood up quickly, his hands shaking with agitation as he threw the apple core out the window to the birds, knocking over the chair he’d been sitting in, moving like a flash across the room in a smooth, fluid, motion, stopping at the bedroom door, not turning to look at her when he spoke, “I  _want_  to be alone.”

* * *

## Part 4

* * *

“Close your fucking eyes, you’re cheating!”

Semi was standing behind Aoi, he’d been trying to teach her how to access the space around her, but she kept opening her eyes, and he was pissed because she’d worn him down by whining so much. He should have drug her out of the room, instead he gave in, and now they were here.

“I don’t know why I keep opening them, and stop yelling at me! I’m not doing it on purpose you fucking prick!” she closed her fingers into fists, wanting to hit him.

Semi growled, yanking his shirt off over his head, and twisting it together, his arms moving over her head. Her hands grabbed his arms, “What are you doing?”

“Stopping you from opening your fucking eyes anymore!”

She released his arms, allowing him to tie the shirt over her eyes, inhaling and somehow comforted by his scent that lingered on the cotton material. She squealed when Semi began to spin her around and around, and she could tell he was moving too so that she would become completely disoriented. She tried to keep pace of how many turns she’d done, but then he stopped her and abruptly began to spin her the opposite direction and she knew there was no way to know now.

When he let her stop, she swayed in place, the room spinning despite her not being able to see a single thing.

“What wall are you facing?”

She jumped, because Semi was so close, his voice loud in her ear despite being a mere whisper.

“Ah-ahm…” she tried to think, she wanted to be able to do this, “the kitchen?”

“No,” he stated but he was on the other side now, his voice a murmur against the shell of her ear, “feel the room, Aoi, stop thinking so hard. Send the energy outside of your body and see what comes back.”

She tried, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do, but he spoke about this with such conviction she felt like there must be some truth to whatever he did, because she’d never been able to get by with being in the room with him and him not knowing somehow.

She didn’t know where to start, she didn’t know how it was done…and she gasped when she felt him press up close behind her, his arms coming in front of her from under her own. One of them drawing up to rest on her chest while the other rest on her abdomen, his voice soft and melodic, almost trance like in her ear.

“Breath in, and feel the breath reach–not  _here_ ,” his hand patted her chest softly, “Feel it  _here_ ,” his hand pressed into her abdomen.

She took a shuddering breath and she felt him shaking his head, “Tch! What are you so worked up over!? You need to calm down, you can’t feel fuck when you’re out of control like this.”

“Fucking breath with me, one, two, three,” and she did as he ordered, taking a deep breath with him, their bodies moving, expanding outward, and then slowly moving downward as they exhaled, “Again! One, two, three.”

They did this for a few minutes, and then it happened, he no longer had to instruct her, she was breathing in perfect unison with him, and his voice was the softest thing she’d ever heard, as his hand pressed into her abdomen, “The energy is here, waiting, feel it and then bring it here,” his hand pressed onto her chest, “bring it to your heart, and then, push it into the room, see it go out, see it moving across all of the surfaces, all of the objects, all of the walls, all of the space, breath it out into the room.”

And whether it was her imagination or not, she felt a change, and her mind’s eye felt like it was walking outside of her body, was exploring the surfaces of everything in the room, was calculating, was measuring, was taking note of the smallest details and she gasped, the words awe-struck, “I’m facing the doorway.”

“Good girl,” he whispered as he stepped back from her and she felt the loss acutely as the air hit the warm places he’d been pressed against.

“Point to where I am.”

She could hear noises, but she knew he said that sounds lied…and so she tried to see it instead, and then she pointed her finger in the direction she sensed him in.

“Good girl,” he responded.

She felt his energy moving, felt it twittering around the room, and she pointed to where he stopped, and then when he moved, she could feel it as it was happening, her finger moving, her body twisting as he moved around her, and then suddenly, she couldn’t find him. Couldn’t see him anymore, and she felt fear, because the difference was stark, was so strange.

“S-Semi?”

“Try harder,” his voice felt like it came from the four corners of the room, and she jerked sideways trying to find him, to pinpoint his location.

She clenched her fists, not wanting to disappoint him, not wanting to fail, leaning her head to the side.

“You’re using your hearing.”

_Damn it._

She stopped, trying to center herself again, slowing her breathing, slowing everything in the room down, her hand landing on her abdomen, pressing against her own chest so she could feel where the energy was, and then she sent it out. Her body shuddering when she realized, gasping, her eyes coming open in shock even underneath the blindfold, because he was standing directly in front of her, she could feel the breath on her face now that she knew he was there.

It was so quiet, it was so still in the room, and she could hear her heartbeat in her head, and she knew it was her imagination, she knew it wasn’t real, but she felt it, she felt his energy there, his hand hovering near her face, holding there just centimeters away from her skin, but she didn’t sense any threat, there was nothing there that was aggressive, in fact, it was a glowing white, and it felt gentle, it felt soft, and then it was gone, and his voice was like a caress on her face.

“Good girl.”

She felt his energy moving again, quicker than before, and then just as it had, it disappeared and she tried to follow him, tried to keep up with his movements, but she lost him, and then she heard it, the bedroom door click shut, and she jerked toward the noise, “Semi?”

There was no answer, and she reached up, slowly removing the blindfold, hands shaking, as she realized she was facing the bedroom door, and he’d definitely went in there.

She shook her head, unrolling the shirt, and flattening it out, folding it neatly and sitting it by the bedroom door, leaning her ear against it, and then speaking softly, “Thank you, Semi…fo-for the lesson.”

_Why the hell are you shaking!?_

There was no response, and she guessed that their time together was done for the day, probably the week, as anytime he’d shown her even a smallest amount of attention, the end result was normally him being cold and distant to make up for it.

She sighed, lowering her hand from the door, and turned to leave, deciding to give him the space he was looking for.

* * *

## Part 5

* * *

Semi was taking a nap when he heard the door open, taking a moment to make sure it was Aoi, and then purposed himself to go to back to sleep. He could tell, there was a darkness, there was a smell, everything was off, and he knew something was wrong.

He tried to ignore it. Keeping his eyes closed. Ignoring it.

He knew she’d sat down on the couch, knew something was wrong, but he didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see it, didn’t need to care.

He felt her lay down on the couch across from him, and he waited, he could hear her breathing, and he knew she was weak. She was weak and quiet, and her heartbeat felt faint to him, and he wanted to look, he wanted to see, but he kept his eyes closed, he ignored it, because he didn’t need to care, not at all.

He waited, and to him it felt like days passed before he could tell she was asleep, peeking an eye open to make sure and discovering that she was indeed asleep, or more likely, passed out. His eyes widening as he took in her condition.

Her hair was matted with blood, and he shifted to sit up, her shoulder had blood on it, he fell to his knees on the floor, moving toward her, the arm that was laying on her side was black and blue, and he was positive it was broken. As he got closer, his eyes inspecting the rest of her, he felt it, the gnawing sensation, the war within.

_Don’t you fucking touch her. Don’t you fucking do it._

_Fuck you! Don’t tell me what to do!_

_I’m responsible for keeping you alive, this will be the first step to becoming weak, just like everyone else._

_I just…I want to make sure she’s okay, that’s all._

_Whatever, it’s your funeral._

_If she dies here, I’ll have to clean it up._

_Fine, that would suck balls–do it, and do it fast._

Aoi woke up, blinking rapidly, every inch of her body aching, and she tried to sit up, startled as she realized she didn’t recognize the room she was in.

“Be still,” Semi’s voice reached out through the darkness in the room, from the corner, and she tried to see him but he was shrouded by the night.

“Wh-where am I?” She felt around herself, realizing she was in a bed, and she moved the arm that hurt the least to pull the comforter up to smell it, recognizing the scent, inhaling deeply. She could tell her head was bandaged, her arm was wrapped tightly, and she could smell the ointment he’d put on her cuts, the one he used when he received an unusual injury during work.

“My room, now be quiet and go back to sleep, you need rest.”

“I-I…Semi?” her voice was a whisper but she knew he’d hear it.

“Yah?”

“Thanks.”

“Shut up.”

“’kay.”

* * *

## Part 6

* * *

He’d started to accept she wasn’t going to leave, but he’d not made a habit of making her feel comfortable either. He didn’t mind her a few times, at least he didn’t think of all the ways he wanted to kill her a couple of times. He didn’t particularly like it though, he didn’t really care for the idea that he even remotely liked her being around. The other day, when they’d worked on the skill he’d been teaching her, he wanted to touch her. Wanted to feel what warm skin felt like under his fingertips, because the only time he ever felt that was if he’d just killed someone, and even then it was fairly rare that he touched anyone.

He couldn’t think of when he had touched someone or been touched.  _Years?_ Had it been years? He had calculated it and realized that he had not been touched by anyone other than Iwanishi in six years. He’d wanted to punch himself for even thinking so much about it because what difference did it really make?

_I don’t want to be touched. I don’t want it, I don’t want to touch anyone and I sure as hell don’t want someone to touch me._

_Never again._

Aoi was sitting on the opposite end of the couch from Semi, curled up into a small ball, taking up the least amount of room possible, being very careful to not touch him because he’d been especially tense the last few days. She was watching him, not even trying to hide it, because she could tell he was in his own head space, not paying any attention to her.

He looked good today, he looked normal, he looked handsome. He was wearing an oversized blue sweater, which kinda swallowed him, but still looked good, a white tank top peeking out over the top, and grey slacks. She couldn’t stop herself, “Can I ask you a question?”

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes before he lowered his phone to look at her, “No, but I sure as fuck know you’re going to anyway.”

“Why do you always wear the same outfit when you’re working on assignment? Why not dress like this?”

His eyes moved down, as if he couldn’t even remember what he was actually wearing before he looked back up, shrugging, “I have killing clothes…don’t you?”

She hadn’t really thought of it that way, but she reluctantly nodded, “I guess…I wear different ones for different kinds of assignments though.”

“Of course, you do, because you’re a fucking girl, why the hell would I need more than one set of killing clothes? It’s hard enough to keep up with just that.”

She laughed, “You’re such a stupid boy.”

“If that’s settled,” he lifted his phone back up, doing whatever it was he was doing before, back to ignoring her.

“I knew you, Semi,” Aoi murmured, wondering if he was going to get mad at her for talking again but not really caring because she was bored, “Iwanishi told me all about you, he showed me pictures, and I saw you sometimes.”

His eyes lifted up over his phone, his expression clearly saying, “who the fuck cares?” and she rolled her eyes at him, “He bragged about you all the time.”

She glanced down, his eyes shifting back to his game, annoyed at her voice, more so thanks to the topic, and he cringed when she spoke again, “I was glad for you, you made him happy, and you did things I couldn’t do. You were vital to him, and I’m glad.”

“Wh-what…shut the fuck up, I don’t want to talk about it!” He raised his phone over his head, so she could see his face clearly, he was extremely agitated at this kind of information, he wasn’t sure why, he didn’t know what made him so tense when personal things were brought up, all he knew was that he hated it and didn’t want to hear that he was anything to anyone, “I don’t fucking care.”

“That’s fine,” Aoi smiled, nodding, but she leaned forward a bit and he flinched, and she couldn’t stop her expression from showing her sadness, “but…. Semi, why do you always move away from me?”

“I don’t want you to touch me.” He shifted his legs back from her, eyes sharp, the words strong and full of contempt, dropping the phone on his chest, his hands drawing up into fists, and he took a shuddering breath as she sat up, leaning forward on the couch, her hand holding the back of the couch to steady herself, stretching closer to him, his eyes shifting to look at her, glaring, “I said, I don’t want you to fucking touch me.”

She nodded, shifting to her knees and slowly moving closer still, her hand reaching forward, touching one of his fists, his fingers clenching harder, knuckles white, her finger tips grazing his skin softly as she shifted further, one hand holding her above him, raising her other hand up to his shoulder, then slowly drawing it down to rest her open palm over his heart, her words a whisper, “ _You’ve been so neglected_.”

There was something open in that moment, something so raw and painful and infused with truth of his pain and suffering that he inadvertently revealed in his eyes, in what he most certainly would consider a weakness, that it nearly overwhelmed Aoi, her eyes softening, “I could take care of you.”

He stared at her pensively, his eyes unblinking, “ _I don’t need to be taken care of_.”

She smiled, her words soft, “You could take care of me.”

His hand grabbed her wrist roughly, twisting it backward causing her to cry out in pain, spinning her over into the floor between the couch and coffee table, her breath knocked out, her eyes wide as he loomed over top of her for a moment before he turned toward the door to leave, turning to spit the words at her.

“That’s not who I am.”

* * *

## Part 7

* * *

He’d been in a rather good mood, things had been going well, and the house was cleaned and that was something he liked, more than he’d thought, he never even paid a bit of attention to those kinds of things before. He lived how Iwanishi lived, that’s all. He had no other role model in his life. He was in reality a pretty simple man, and didn’t have much to speak of, but he apparently liked a tidy home. He’d realized that the cleanliness made it easier for him to breath.

They were playing some of Iwanishi’s records, both of them caught up in the nostalgic mood, and he let her talk, normally telling her to shut up immediately as he didn’t care for her stories, or her tone of voice, or really, he basically had a ridiculously low tolerance for anything when it came to her. He wasn’t particularly sure why, it just had been that way from the start, and seemed to be increasing the more time they spent together.

He was laying on the couch and she’d pulled a pillow to the floor and was laying there between him and the coffee table.

“Did Iwanishi tell you my story?” she asked, turning onto her side to stare up at his profile where he lay.

“No, I didn’t even know you existed.”

“Hmm,” she murmured, laughing softly, I wonder why that is–”

“He thought I would kill you.”

She shifted to sit up so she could see him better, his tone so matter of fact, it startled her, “Would you have?”

His eyes drifted over to look at her, “Maybe.” He considered it for a moment, “Probably. I was possessive of him, I might have been jealous enough to want you dead.”

“I see,” she nodded, realizing that fit everything she knew about him, “I wouldn’t have minded knowing you, it’s a pity we couldn’t have been friends, I think it would have made Iwanishi happy.”

“Maybe.” He was feeling charitable, drawing his fists up to lay on his stomach, trying to not snap at her, but damn, she drove him crazy and he wanted to cut things, cut himself because she made him feel things, she made him feel crazier than he was.

“I was abducted on my way home from school and was sold into slavery to a sixty-year-old man when I was fourteen. I managed to escape before he put his filthy hands on me, leaving a knife in his throat in thanks for the lewd way he looked at me, and I spent the next eight years learning to keep men away from me.”

Semi hummed softly, and she understood the question without him actually asking, “I didn’t go home because I was too broken for them. I would never fit back into a pleasant, calm world, never again. I saw too much, learned too much. I would just make them hurt. I don’t mind hurting people. I just don’t want to hurt the people I love.”

Semi lifted his head, turning so he could look at her, trying to figure out what the proper response to this kind of revelation would be, not good at people things, not good with things that weren’t bloody, settling for simplistic, “Why Iwanishi then?”

“He was different, and he was like a father I never knew—and he was in all of it as deep as I was. I couldn’t hurt him, he was already a broken man, broken, just like me.”

The silence was comfortable, and it stretched out, Semi closing his eyes, and she watched his profile, wondering what he was thinking, and as she looked at him, his long lashes across his cheeks, his grey toned hair messy and wild from waking up only hours ago, the stupid pink hoodie he always wore, the damned bunny ears draped around his shoulders, and that fucking fluffy cotton tail that she knew was there under him.

_What kind of fucking assassin wears shit like that? A fucking bunny hoodie thing with that white tail. I don’t even dress in clothes like that! Damn it, I love it though, how the fuck is a professional assassin so cute and cuddly and yet so fucking dysfunctional and broken. His hair is so pretty, I bet it’s so soft, he’d break my wrist if I tried to touch him. It might be worth it, just to know. His lips are prettier than mine. It’s not really fair. He’s too pretty. He’s really very beautiful, and I bet his skin on his face is even softer than mine. I could try to tou—_

“Stop staring.”

She jumped when he spoke, hitting her back on the coffee table, and yelping. Hating the way he could do that, while he shifted around turning his back to her in a huff. Her eyes landed on the fluffy bunny tail that was now showing, reaching out to touch it on impulse.

“Don’t touch my tail.”

She jerked her hand back like she’d touched fire, not even remotely understanding how he knew what’d she done but flustered and embarrassed that she’d been caught.

“I-I’ve gotta go, I…a job….” Banging her knee on the table as she fumbled, scrambling to get out of the room.

He didn’t say anything but when she looked back he’d rolled over on his back, and she could see the corners of his mouth turning up into his stupid catlike smile as she turned to leave the room, calling back over her shoulder, “Fuck you!”

She slammed the door harder than she needed to when she heard him laughing loudly.

* * *

## Part 8

* * *

She walked into the foyer, music playing from the other room and she had to smile. Semi was playing some of his own music, and the tune wasn’t something she’d heard before. She liked to hear what he listened to, it gave her insight into him. That said, she wanted to stay there and hide, but if she knew him at all, he already knew she was there.

She walked in, laying her phone down on the coffee table, glancing over to where he was sitting on the couch, hands folded over his chest as he had his head tilted off the edge looking up at the ceiling.

“What are you doing?”

He blinked, shifting his eyes over to look at her, “Getting a different perspective.”

“That’s the stupide—“ The words died in her throat as his eyes narrowed, understanding his mood a little better. It must have been another bad kill for him.

She nodded instead, sitting down on the couch across from him, rolling over to her back so she could throw her feet over the back, tilting her head upside down to see what he might be seeing.

She really didn’t notice anything, but he was deeply involved in studying the ceiling which gave her yet another opportunity to study him.

She wasn’t sure why she cared so much about him—but since she’d met Iwanishi all those years ago, and he sat in a car across from this very home, pointing to the young boy who walked out of the building, “See that boy right there, Aoi?”

When she’d said yes, he told her about Semi. He told her everything about Semi. And she wanted to meet him, and Iwanishi had forbidden it. He’d told her if she ever was known by Semi that he would leave and never come back, she’d never find him, and that would be it. She was young enough, naïve enough, insecure enough to take the threat as a real one and despite having watched Semi grow up from afar, she made good on her promise to never come near him.

_But I watched, I watched him, I learned him, I grew up with him on the other side of the street. He’s been a part of my life for so long._

“I swore I’d never let a man touch me, ever…” She blurted out.

_What the fuck are you even saying!?_

If Semi was affected by her exclamation, she couldn’t tell, his eyes were blank staring at the spot above them, expression impassive when she continued, swallowing the lump in her throat, “Until…now…I’d think—I mean, I would be different…you make me feel different.”

He hummed, his expression still the same from what she could tell looking at his profile, and then he lifted his head again, looking directly at her when he spoke, a fire in his eyes that wasn’t there before, “You don’t want to feel things for me, I’m poison.”

“You’re not though, we’re the same, and if we can’t find something happy with each other, does that mean we’re going to be alone all our lives?”

“Yes…” he dropped his head back down onto the edge of the couch, closing his eyes and covering his face with his arms.

“You don’t really believe that, I can tell you don’t,” she shifted, sitting up, sliding off the couch into the floor, shifting closer to him, and he shuddered at her movement, she could see it, and she wanted to cry, because there was something so breathtaking about this beautiful broken assassin, the boy who couldn’t be touched, the boy who felt the world around him against his skin in such a profound way that touch was too much, too painful.

“I do,” he shook his head, his hands reaching out over to shove her away, but she was ready and barely even moved, his eyes rolling up to look at the ceiling, purposefully avoiding looking at her, “I bring death with me wherever I go, I don’t want to be close to people, they just die.”

“We—we could keep each other alive,” she murmured, shifting closer to him.

He sat up abruptly, his hand pushing her face backward as he moved, causing her to put her arms out behind her before she fell backward. He was standing then, in front of her, the height giving him an advantage as he used his foot to slam into her chest, causing her to fly backward, hitting the coffee table, the sound of the feet skidding on the floor mixing with her cry as she sprawled out sideways on the floor.

He was on top of her then, sitting on her abdomen, and his knife was out, and she had somehow managed to get hers out, and he had his knife pressing into her neck, leaning down, his other hand holding the wrist of the arm which held her knife, “I don’t keep things fucking alive, do you not see!? I destroy! I kill, it’s what I was made for, and you…I want to kill you—it’s always there, nagging me, always in the back of my mind.”

His words were so cold, so wicked, they hit her skin and she wanted to say he didn’t mean it, but she didn’t see any part of the boy she saw him as in this version of Semi, his head shaking slightly and she knew what it was, knew the noise was loud in his ears, he only did that when he was extremely agitated.

“Why, Semi!? At least tell me why!” she couldn’t help it, she knew not to bait him, especially when he was in this state, she knew she wouldn’t, she shouldn’t, want to know what his depraved mind really thought of her—but she had to know, she wanted to understand.

He stared at her, and he was breathing so heavy, and she didn’t move, didn’t breathe, his head jerking sideways and back again as he attempted to stop the noise, but then, there was something happening, and she couldn’t tell what it was, but when his eyes moved to hers they held something gentle in them, and his voice was softer than she expected when he spoke, “ _You’re the most alive_.”

“Wh-what?”

“No other person has the same as you do, I see your bubbles, they’re everywhere, all the time—they stay in the room even when you leave.”

“You see…see them right now?”

“I do.”

“Why does that make you want to kill me?”

“They  _hurt me_ , seeing them hurts me all the time, Aoi, they  _stab_  my skin and it feels like someone is scratching my eyes out when I see them, they fucking hurt. I hate them, I  _hate_  the bubbles you produce!”

She wanted to understand, wanted to get it but she didn’t, and instead his words just made her mad, made her absolutely furious—she didn’t want to be angry, didn’t want to be out of control, but she felt it, felt the emotions swirling and swelling inside of her—the way he handled her, the way he treated her and she just couldn’t understand.

_He really does want to kill me._

_He really will kill me._

“Then fucking kill me, you damned coward! I thought you LOVED the bubbles those fucking clams made—I don’t know why you hate my bubbles so much!” she hissed, the entire conversation feeling completely insane, and maybe it was, maybe they were,  _fucking of fucking course we are_.

His eyes startled, shifting from her face to look at the knife, his head doing the strange tic thing, and his eyes were fixated at the way the knife was causing her neck to look distorted from the pressure of the edge. 

It was the moment of distraction she needed, and she shot her legs up underneath herself, bucking her body, catching him by surprise, her hand got loose and the blade flew through the air toward his neck. He shifted, and the knife went into his arm instead. He groaned, shifting to his knees as he threw his head forward hitting her hard in the face, her scream filling the air as he moved his knife to his other hand so he could pull the knife she’d left in his arm out. He jerked it free, throwing it across the room.

Before he could look back down at her, she’d maneuvered herself enough to bring her knee up, hitting him hard in the groin, causing him to buckle over, hissing as she shuffled trying to get out from under him.

She’d nearly made it, but his hands shot out to grab her ankles, and she started to kick, scrambling to try to find a weapon, blood dripping from her nose and mouth. Her hands desperately, clawing at the floor and he started to drag her backward toward the door, “Get the fuck out!” 

His voice was laced with something new, and there was a part of her that was for the first time genuinely terrified, because that didn’t sound like him, didn’t sound like any version of him she’d met so far. She twisted, getting one leg free, and used it to kick at him, reaching into her pocket to get her other knife, opening it and throwing it at him. 

It missed its mark, grazing his shoulder, slicing his t-shirt and skin open as it flew behind him, instead of his throat, but it was enough to catch him by surprise to give her the upper hand. She’d barely turned when Semi charged into her, his shoulder making contact with her back, throwing her five feet forward, her body skidding across the wooden floor from the momentum toward the desk.

She whipped her head up when she’d landed, feeling her foot being lifted, looking at Semi who was once again dragging her by the leg toward the door, screaming, “I don’t want to go!” 

“You’re fucking going, and you’re not coming back!” he yelled, having drug her almost to the entrance to the foyer.

Her face went blank, then suddenly her other leg flew up, twisting her body, connecting with his hand, but he was ready for that move this time, twisting his body to get out of the way of the blow. He saw her reaching for her pocket, absently wondering how many weapons she had on her person, her hand shooting out and he ducked, the knife flying past him to land in the wall behind him.

“You’re the worst assassin I’ve ever met,” he murmured, glancing at the knife in the wall before leaning forward trying to get a hold of her other leg, she’d managed to grab onto a cord as they’d passed the living room.

He heard the noise, but was too consumed with trying to get her out of the house to be bothered by it, that was until he felt the blow land on his temple, his vision fading for a moment, dropping to his knees, and he shook his head, squinting his eyes, and feeling dizzy as he swayed. Aoi scrambled backward, “Takes one to fucking know one you bastard!”, as she was still holding the lamp she’d just hit him with, dropping it as she aimed a kick for his face, which landed with a sharp thud, knocking him backward in his confusion.

She turned to get on her knees to stand up. Her breath whooshing out of her when Semi’s arms came around her neck, landing on her back. 

She growled, her fingers digging into the skin on his forearms, clawing at them as she felt his skin tear easily, “I’m about fucking done with you!”

She pitched herself backward, landing on top of Semi, who was reaching around her trying to hold her down, his legs flailing, reaching to wrap around one of hers, managing to get leverage, lifting himself up and folding Aoi’s body in half, holding her neck down.

“I can do this all night,” he spat into her ear, her chin pressed down onto her neck as his hands held her still.

She bucked backward, her head smacking Semi in the chin, sending his line of vision skyward, as she shifted turning and launching herself forward, her foot landing right in the middle of his chest, spinning him back away from her.

She stood up, heading to the kitchen to find her knife, making it about eight feet before Semi flew across the space between them, landing with a crash into her back, his arm around her neck holding her head straight up, his words harsh in her ear, “You’re fucking leaving!”

He’d barely finished the last syllable when Aoi shifted her center of gravity forward, her arms coming up to grab Semi’s head, tipping over quickly, pitching him onto his back. She leaned over him, now lying on his back looking up at her, upside down, her words hissed between her gasps for breath, “I’m fucking not.”

She took a step forward, her foot coming straight down on Semi’s chest, the air making a sharp noise as it was forced from his lungs, somehow managing to speak through the breath, “The hell you aren’t!”

His hands reached up to grab Aoi’s foot, yanking on it and rolling as she began to fall, clearing most of her sprawling appendages, her knee hitting him in the shin. Semi was trying to get up, making it to his hands and knees before Aoi used the distance between them to get enough weight behind her to pounce on his back, her feet dug into the floor for leverage—pressing him down to the wooden surface, her elbow pressing into Semi’s neck, holding him still.  

Semi growled, his face smashed into the hard floor under him, trying to figure out how the hell someone as small as her kept getting the upper hand.

_Because you aren’t even trying._

_Fuck you._

_I’m just saying._

He waited, stilled, conserving his energy—Aoi leaned over him, “What are you? Stupid? I’m fucking staying! Deal with it! And stop trying to fucking kill me!”

She yelped when Semi twisted his body, rising up under her, his elbow slamming into her throat, twisting his torso to land his fist across Aoi’s jaw. She fell backward, and he was there, immediately, leaning over her, growling, his fist slamming into her cheek, her head flying sideways.

“You sure the fuck are not staying.”

She managed to move her face as the fist came flying at her again, the blow glancing off the side of her head, “Don’t make me leave, Semi! I know you don’t want to!”

She moved her legs up, wrapping one around his leg, the other flying up to slam into Semi’s chin, and then flying forward to hit the wound on his arm, causing him to scream, “You fucking fuck! That hurts!”

“Meant to,” Aoi hissed at him, her leg shooting out again, Semi grabbing it before it made contact, twisting it, and Aoi’s eyes widening as she realized if she didn’t roll with him, she might end up with a broken leg.

“Damn it,” she threw herself into the roll, her hands grabbing Semi’s hair trying to get him to break loose.

Semi’s hands were clawing at hers trying to loosen her grip, “Stop fighting like a twelve-year-old!”

“Better than you!”

“Fuck you!” Semi hissed, his fist flying forward striking Aoi’s mouth straight on. causing her head to pitch backward, hitting the floor, the room spinning for a moment.

She rolled onto her side, spitting the blood that pooled in her mouth on the floor beside her. She felt the tears hot in her eyes, but it just made her more angry, looking around for something to hit Semi with to get him off of her leg as he dragged her across the room on her stomach, her hands trying to gain purchase anywhere, as he was almost to the door. 

He paused his movement, leaning forward to put his hands on his knees, clearly dizzy, and she lifted to look over her shoulder at him, trying to figure out how much blood he’d lost at this point, the sleeve on his arm bright with blood, the cut on his shoulder seeping blood down the front of his shirt, and it seemed like she’d gotten a few lucky blows in and there was a stream of blood coming from his nose. 

She kicked her leg out, knocking his feet out from under him, and he fell with all of his weight on top of her. His breath was heavy on her neck, as she lay flat on the ground with Semi sprawled out across her, his weight enough to keep her pinned down with no effort at all, his shoulder digging into Aoi’s back, as she screamed, “Get off me!”

“No.”

“Not kidding,” Aoi hissed her breath labored, “Move.”

“No.”

“Fuck!”

Aoi’s knee popped up, as she curled her body in, hitting his nose with her back of her head, his hands moving to his face, as she rolled out from under him, clamoring to get onto his back, moving around to get her arm around his neck, pulled up onto her knees, pulling Semi backward.

Their breath was loud and heavy, Aoi didn’t loosen her pressure on his neck, knowing full well, that as soon as she moved her arm even an inch Semi would respond. He was like a coiled cobra, ready to strike, and her mind was wild with a way to get out of this alive at this point.

“Aoi,” Semi, huffed, breathlessly, “you can’t stay here.” He tried to take a deeper breath, “Not unless you want me to kill you.”

“Shut the fuck up!” she yelled in his ear.

“I  _will_  kill you,” Semi’s body shuddered as he finally gathered a full breath, “You need to leave before I do something I can’t take back.”

“Or I could fucking kill you first, Semi,” she hissed in his ear.

His body shook with laughter, as if the idea that she could actually kill him was the most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard in his life. Aoi’s arm tightened around his throat her hand firm on her wrist, not giving another inch, a silent protest. Semi exploded, “I swear to all…. you know what? That’s it, I’m fucking done!”  

Aoi couldn’t react, so fast were Semi’s movements, and before she could even comprehend how it had happened, Semi had reversed their position, slamming her down to the ground, pulling one of her arms back behind her back, pressing his knee down into her shoulder blades, leaning his full weight on her tiny body.

She couldn’t take a good breath, so she couldn’t make a sound, a small wheezing noise coming out through her mouth.

Semi bounced on her, a strange groan coming out of Aoi from the pressure on her lungs, the feeling that he was going to crush her overwhelming. Semi leaned down to her head, “You’re gonna damn well listen to me. You  _are_ leaving this house or you are going to  _die_. I’m not fucking around.  _You are leaving_. Do you understand me!?  _You will do what you’re told._ ”

Those words, Semi could not have known that those words were like gasoline thrown into a burning fire, as Aoi went completely wild under him, her entire body alight with fury, somehow getting her arms under herself to pitch Semi off balance, scrambling over to him, landing with one knee on his chest, the other on his throat as she glared down at him, seething, “Don’t you ever fucking tell what I will do!” Her hand shot out, punching him, “You don’t get to be that!”

Her hand flew forward again, and he didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from it, letting her hit him full force, “You don’t get to be the boss of me!”

Her fist drew back again, “You don’t get to fucking talk to me like that!  _You take it back!_ TAKE IT BACK!”

Semi stared at Aoi, a play of emotions moving across her face, until suddenly it crumbled, hands falling into her lap, head dropping down, sobbing, “You fucking take it back, Semi,  _please_ , take it back. I don’t want you to be that person.”

He dropped his hands that had been trying to push her off, growing still under her trembling body, the will to fight slowly drained from him, as he took in her sobbing, the blood that was covering her shirt, the way that her face was already swelling and distorted from the fight, and he felt the aches, the knife wounds, the pain, but it was nothing compared to the tight feeling that was taking a hold of him, somewhere deep inside that felt something different than he’d ever known before. He didn’t have a name for it, but he didn’t like it. It felt uncontrollable, and that wasn’t his style. 

He couldn’t think on it much more because Aoi, tipped off of him, laying down on the floor next to him, her hand covering her mouth as she cried, and he was finally able to take a deep breath with her weight removed from his neck. His hand came up to touch his arm, measuring how deep the cut was, thankful it was only about two inches and appeared to miss anything vital as he flexed his fingers. 

“You’re the stupidest woman I’ve ever met,” he huffed out, taking another full breath, his body protesting violently.

“You’re the stupidest man I’ve ever met,” she hissed through her tears, “Now just shut the fuck up.”

He rolled over onto his side, groaning as his body gave him every reason to be still, looking at her, “What happened to you?”

“I told you,” she whispered.

“You told me no one ever  _touched you_ ,” he responded, licking the blood that was dripping down his lip.

She tilted her head toward him, reaching down, which made him flinch before she laughed lightly, “Calm down, I don’t have any more weapons,” her hand moving once he nodded, to lift her shirt up, his eyes widening as he took in the skin on her abdomen, covered with crisscrossed scars, white on her skin, raised in a strange pattern, and he looked back up to her.

“I said no one touched me intimately, there are many forms of touch.”

He stared at her, his mouth dry, words stuck in his throat, not knowing how to respond, he wasn’t good with people, wasn’t good with words, or social things and certainly, he was not good with any form of relationship that involved this level of emotional content.

He settled for nodding.

* * *

## Part 9

* * *

A strange accord had been reached silently through the fight the two had engaged in. An odd mutual respect blossoming between them, and despite the many weeks of healing they both had to do, neither of them regretted the day they’d spent beating the hell out of each other. It at least removed all of the tension that had been building up between them. 

Plus, Semi had finally admitted he was impressed with how skilled she was, never having ever been punished so fully by any other opponent. They’d given each other some space, but slowly worked into a routine.

They were sitting on the couch, her on one end, him on the other, her feet stretched out, her toes wiggling against his thigh as she read some book or another and he had been trying to nap before she complained her feet were cold and he allowed her to put her feet under him to warm them up.

He didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes, but when he spoke she lowered the book to look at him, “If you don’t stop moving your fucking toes I’m going to slice them off.”

“You’re so hair trigger, Semi,” she laughed, laying the book down on her lap, purposefully wiggling her toes more, “You need to laugh more.”

His hand reached down to grab her ankle, jerking her foot up and then tossing it to the side, causing her to twist sideways, bracing herself to keep from being thrown off the couch.

She laughed again, sitting up to get a better look at him, he still had his eyes closed, his legs straight out across the couch nearly reaching her waist and he looked so peaceful, so serene, but she knew he wasn’t.

She shook her head, relaxing and picking up her book again.

“Aoi.”

His voice was soft but firm at the same time and she shifted the book to look at him, his eyes fixed on hers, humming softly.

“The marks, on your legs…”

She pulled her legs to her chest quickly, cursing the fact that she’d become so casual, so at ease around him that she wore shorts, and he reached out, grabbing her ankle and pulling her leg back down beside him, his fingers moving up her skin until it reached her thigh where lines and lines went in an intricate pattern of pain across the skin there, “How old are these?”

His finger traced the rose-colored lines that stood out from the others, and she wanted to pull away, run, hide, but he was looking at her and she didn’t feel like he was condemning her, and she took a deep breath, “Three weeks.”

“Why did you do them?”

“A guy I was targeting…he just…he was too close. It made me feel…disgusting.”

Semi stared at her, his fingers moving softly on her skin, causing it to erupt in shivers from the contact, “I’m close to you, I’m touching you, but you’re not cutting yourself.”

Her mouth opened and closed, and then she snapped her jaw shut, frowning as she tried to think of something to say in response because he wasn’t wrong.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his hand opening and laying palm down on her leg, grasping her thigh softly, “It’s okay to not understand, I don’t understand things either.”

“Like…like what?” She wanted to know, she needed to know if he didn’t understand the same things as her.

“This,” he murmured gesturing to his hand on her leg, “I don’t understand it.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Why…why you’re different too.”

* * *

## Part 10

* * *

Aoi bolted up straight off the couch, knife in hand, body positioned to strike when the music came on full blast, startling her out of her nap.

Semi was standing across the room in front of the desk, laughing at her, shaking his head.

“Fuck you!” she called out over the music, putting her knife back in her pocket, and flopping down on the couch, crossing her arms and pouting for good measure. He just laughed and then suddenly he was still, and she couldn’t care less what he was doing, because holy fuck, he had on a pair of pajama pants that were hung low on his hips and nothing else. He was the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, not that she’d actually paid any attention to them, but still, if there were going to be a man who was specifically her ‘type’ it was this one. Not just his body, but mind, and his soul too, and she couldn’t help the bright red flush that infused her body as she watched him, thankful his eyes were closed.

He slowly began to move, the actions seeming to contradict the music, because despite the fact the music was very soothing, it was chaotic and hard to concentrate because it was so loud. It didn’t appear to be bothering him though. He bent his legs and his arms moved out in front of him, and he slowly raised his arms up and down, his legs bending and straightening as he appeared to breath in and out with the motions.

She was mesmerized by his movements, his legs moving further apart and his arms slowly moving into slow circles around and around, meeting above his head, and then lowering down the center of his body, as if folded in prayer. He did this for a few minutes, and then he shifted posture again, twisting his body sideways, his legs performing a slow movement like a lunge over and over again as his arms moved forward and backward, his hands making a circular pattern, then he spun gracefully, his arms moving as he shifted, and he did it in the other direction. His body was so fluid, everything so synchronized.

The muscles rippled on his abdomen, on his arms, and the light from the windows made it seem like he was glowing, he looked almost ethereal, his body so controlled, so exact with each movement, yet each gesture was filled with such gracefulness. He shifted, his body facing her again, and then he was in movement, in motion, his body slowly moving in a wide arch, his leg extending and then his arms moving, pausing, holding, and then moving again, and he was making a circle, his foot twisting, his leg slow to touch, leaning back and forward and then his hands swirling in front of him.

He held the pose, one foot slightly in front of the other, and then he raised his leg up, knee bent up to his waist, and he held it there, held still before he extended it outward and up, his toes at the level of his eyes, as he stopped there longer than she imagined possible, and then slowly, with discipline, he lowered it, his body shifting so he could do the same with the opposite leg.

Then his leg lifted again, and his hand rest on his toes, holding in that position, and she couldn’t stop her mouth from dropping, because damn, how the hell was he doing this?! He wasn’t even wobbling, he was just holding this position and it seemed impossible to her. He slowly shifted down into a crouch, one leg extended, as he dipped low, then rose, on his bent leg, and moved forward, all of his gestures precise, with great purpose and control, and then he was doing the movement but it was facing her, and it seemed that his legs were impossibly stretched, but he just shifted, turning the other direction.

She had no idea what she looked like, heart pounding, eyes wide, and her mouth undoubtedly gaping wide open, or what he might think when he opened his eyes, looking straight at her, and his expression held humor, one of his eyebrows arching as he smirked at her, and she scrambled back on the couch, grabbing a book and trying to pretend to read.

He laughed then, reaching over to grab the towel off the desk to wipe the glistening sweat off of his body, moving over to turn off the music, and she couldn’t even pretend to not be watching, and he winked at her, a casual thing that people often do, but she shivered. He moved over to the end of the couch she was sitting on and she held her breath because if she thought he was gorgeous before he started that whole thing, he was even more so now, his hair twisted into tiny curls around his face from the sweat, his arms so smooth and round and perfect, and  _damn it woman calm the fuck down already!_

“Enjoy the show?” he asked, voice laced with amusement, and she shook her head, looking pointedly at the book like she’d been reading the whole time. He laughed, a broad, deep laugh and she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard it before and she looked at him, smiling and then laughing too because he looked so happy.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that you’re really a girl,” he murmured as he walked to the bathroom to take a shower.

She watched him go, jumping when he turned to look at her, his expression different than before, “Aoi, I-I…”

Suddenly, he was very shy and she sat up, not sure what it was he was trying to say, and he reached up and grabbed his ear, holding it while he spoke, “I-I got you s-something.”

He took a deep breath and his other arm extended pointing to the desk where a bag was sitting, “O-over the-there.”

He didn’t wait for her response, just moved into the bathroom and slammed the door. She was confused by his behavior but more curious about what was in the bag. She stood up and walked to the desk, reaching into the bag and drawing something soft out of it. She carefully held it up, and she felt like her legs were going to give out from under her, the gesture, it was so grand, and she pulled the hoodie into her chest, hugging it to her, holding it to her, as she felt the tears fall onto the pink fabric.

She smiled, a bubbly laugh escaping as she held it out to look at it again, quickly unzipping it and pulling it on, quickly zipping it up, and pulling the hood up. She ran her fingers over the soft fabric, then reached up, her hands moving slowly down the long bunny ears that adorned the hood, and twisted sideways trying to see the back, to confirm it was there, but she couldn’t see it and imagined she must look like a cat chasing its tail before she laughed at herself, reaching back and feeling the big fluffy fur ball that was situated at the bottom of the hoodie, then wrapping her arms around herself, easy to imagine that it was a  hug from him perhaps.

_The hoodie that matches his. The same color and everything. A hoodie he got for me._

She jumped when she heard the ‘snick’ of the door closing, and she twisted quickly to stare at the bathroom door, wondering, because it was certainly closed, and considered perhaps she had just imagined it.

She hadn’t. 

Inside the bathroom Semi was holding his ear, willing the noise to stop, but smiling despite it, because she liked it. He’d never given anyone anything before, but he wanted her to have this, because she’d said she liked his. She never said much about objects, things, didn’t seem to have any need for them, but this, his bunny hoodie, she’d commented on it.

He wanted her to have it. He wanted to give her his, but he knew she wouldn’t take it, knew she’d fight him, but she couldn’t say no to one if he bought one for her to have of her own, and he was happy, because pink was a perfect color for her, and she looked so cute in it.

_She liked it._

_I should hope so, you went to a hundred stores and had to buy it off an auction for way more than it was worth in the end._

_I think I did good, so shut up._

_Sure, sure, you did great, you big baby._

_You can’t make me upset today, because today, I know…_

_What the hell do you think you know?_

_I did good. I made her happy._

_There’s no one to make you happy though._

Semi paused, closing his eyes and leaning over the sink, trying to stop the voice, trying to ignore it but the pain in his chest was still there.

_Is there no one?_

_No, there has never been, and there will never be._

_I don’t…I don’t believe that._

_You do, you are the one who told me that._

_Did I?_

_Yes, and that you don’t deserve anyone, everything you touch dies._

_It does. It does, doesn’t it?_

_Yes._

_Yes, yes, it does._

_It’s true._

_Everything I care about dies._

_Yes._

_I see._

_Good._

* * *

## Part 11

* * *

Semi walked in and Aoi glanced up at him, his face was normal and then it changed, and her eyes widened, as his brows drew down, his fists clenching at his side, as he inhaled deeply.

“What the fuck did you do in here?!”

His eyes darted over to hers, and she gasped at the fury that was there under the surface, “I-I, Semi, I just…I cleaned the house?”

“Fucking…hell,” he stormed over to the kitchen, jerking open the cabinets, his arms moving around under there and then he stood up, a spray bottle in his hand, and he came toward her.

She shrank back into the couch, but he was too fast, and he grabbed her shirt, pulling her up to him like she weighed nothing, his breath hot on her face as he hissed, “What the fuck have I said about this!?”

“N-nothing, Semi!” she tried to think, tried to think about what he’d said about the cleaning product but he hadn’t, had he? Had he said something about it?

“I fucking did! I told you! I told you never to use this fucking shit in my house!”

He threw her down on the couch, and she scrambled back into the corner, watching him as he stormed over to the window, setting the bottle down on the table, picking up the chair he kept sitting there when he wanted to watch the sky, stepping back and throwing it through the window, the sound of shattering glass filling the room with her cry, the millions of shards flying all around the room like it had exploded, and he grabbed the cleaner, moved to the window, and threw it out.

He turned around, glaring at her, tiny pieces of glass stuck in his cheek and covering his clothes, but he wasn’t even phased by it, didn’t even seem to notice, his breath heavy as he spoke, “If you bring that fucking back into my house again, it’s you that’s going out that window next time.”

He walked past her into the bedroom, and she sat frozen, still not sure what had happened, not sure what he was so upset about, but she got up, looking over at the disaster that was the floor, glass everywhere, light glittering off of the surface making it seem like the floor was covered in diamonds.

She didn’t know how or why but she was at the window, and she was looking down at the ground where the chair was broken and shattered into a million pieces, the blue and white bottle there in the midst of it, looking as if it made the fall intact.

_Maybe I could bounce._

_No, I don’t think you can._

_Fly?_

_No, I don’t think you can do that either._

_Pity._

_Yes._

_That hurts._

_What does?_

_I don’t know but it hurts._

_Go to sleep._

_I don’t want to._

_Yes, it’s time to sleep now._

She felt something, and it hurt, and she jerked up, kicking her foot out, hearing the grunt as she opened her eyes to see Semi sitting on the stool at her feet, grimacing up at her, rubbing his shoulder where she’d just kicked him, “Calm the fuck down, Aoi!”

She sat up, trying to make sense of what he was doing, and then she felt it. Her feet were hurting, so much pain, and her eyes widened, looking at Semi, and the table that held a plate, the tweezers in his hand, and the pieces of glass streaked with blood,

“Lay back down, I’m not done yet.”

She wanted to protest, felt like she wanted to run and jump out the window again, but his eyes were clear and calm and he smiled at her, his voice firm, “Aoi. Lay back down. Let me finish.”

She nodded, laying down, and felt him pick her foot back up, using the tweezers to pull out another shard of glass. It was quiet, and she didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think. Her hand moved up to her face, and she felt the bandages there, no doubt from the glass she’d landed on when she fell.

“What were you doing, Aoi?” He whispered but it felt like the words were screamed at her, felt like he was so mad and angry and upset with her and he wouldn’t be if she’d just done what she was supposed to do.

“I-I was just looking outside,” she murmured, trying to remember what happened next.

“Why did you walk on the glass?”

“I don’t know.”

He made a grunting noise at her, so she shifted a little bit so she could look down at him, “Why are you helping me?”

He scoffed, not really wanting to answer, slowly spreading ointment on her foot and then wrapping it in gauze. Her eyes taking in his appearance, his eyes were rimmed with red, like he’d been crying, but that didn’t make any sense, not at all, and his hands were…they were white and raw, and she was confused, but more than that, she was confused by how gentle his hands were on her, how carefully he was handling her.

“Semi,” her voice was louder, and his eyes shot to hers, tilting her head, “Why are you helping me?”

He stared at her, and his mouth opened and closed, like the words kept trying to come out but they wouldn’t be made to. He shook his head sharply, looking at her again, his hand moving up to grasp his ear, and he shook his head again, and then he leaned forward, to make sure she could see him, the words seemed pained, seemed to hurt him as they were spoken, “Y-you…. you st-still have—ch-charm.”

“Charm?”

“Y-you aren’t t-touched, t-tainted by the w-world…you’re still innocent.”

She laughed, it was a weird sound to her own ears, but she couldn’t help it, “Semi—I fucking kill people for a living, and I fucking like it—I’m as far from innocent as you can get.”

He shook his head, his hand clawing at his ear, and then he opened his eyes, his other hand moving forward slowly, gently reaching through the air, stopping just short of her skin, and he moved his fingertips, and to her, it almost felt like he was touching her, her breath caught in her throat, as he moved them slowly around her.

“It—it’s all around y-you, Aoi.”

“What is, Semi?” her voice was a whisper.

“The bubbles, but…they’re different now. They’re…softer, they don’t hurt me now. Not anymore.”

“Are they…like the clam’s bubbles now?”

“No,” he whispered, his eyes wide as he looked into hers, “Your bubbles are very different than theirs.”

“How?”

It was quiet, the minutes stretching out as he looked at whatever he was seeing, whatever it was, Aoi couldn’t make herself care, because his face was so soft, it was filled with such genuine emotion, and she just wanted to freeze time like this. Him looking at her–or whatever, her bubbles, with such a gentled expression.

“Th-they’re y-yours.”

He jerked up from the seat, and she watched him as he paced across the room and back again, his head shaking, hand on his ear, and she could see the madness could see it clawing at him from the inside, and she wanted to help.

He shook his head, and then he moved to the door, she called out for him, “Semi! Don’t go!”, scrambling to try to stop him, but he was too fast, he was out the door and down the steps and she could barely stand to put weight on her feet. Watching as he turned the last corner.

She walked slowly back into the room, her feet screaming in pain, eyes moving across the space to the window which was covered in plastic. She stepped around the couch to see that the floor was cleaned, no sign of glass or the destruction anywhere. She shuffled forward, realizing that he’d attempted to clean the blood off the floor, the path that went from the window to the couch, her eyes widening when she saw the bottle of blue and white cleaner there on the floor beside the crimson, blood soaked rags.

She didn’t know why he didn’t want the cleaner in the house, but he’d went and got it, tried to clean up the mess she’d made. She walked over, picking it up, and the rags, putting them in the garbage. Not understanding anything, nothing except that he cared. She might be trying to deny it, but she knew it in the very depths of her soul. 

Someone cared for her.

_Semi._

* * *

## Part 12

* * *

“What the actual fuck is that?” Semi spoke, causing Aoi to jump, having been lost in the book she was reading, looking up at him, finding him staring at her blankly from the other end of the couch.

“What the actual fuck is what?” she raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully as he moved forward on the couch, raising her arms as he neared her so she could see what he was looking at, and he reached beside her, between her hip and the couch and then she realized what he was doing.

“Fuck you,” she hissed, already getting in the preemptive strike before he could start his bullshit harassment.

He laughed as he drew his hand back out, moving back to the other side of the couch, smiling deviously.

He settled against the arm of the couch, facing her, and pushed the button, the knife flinging open, and he turned it slowly, letting the light cast the rainbows across the room, “Do you actually kill people with this?”

“Fuck you.”

He looked over at her, “So testy, what, you buy a fucking weapon that looks like something one of those damn colored ponies would use to kill someone and you don’t want me to comment on it?”

“I don’t buy anything else, so shut the fuck up, I liked it,” she held her hand out impatiently, gesturing for him to give it back.

“I’m looking at it, calm the fuck down,” he twisted the knife, looking at the edge and then reached up, running his finger across it, and then smiling when a thin line of blood appeared on the pad of his thumb, “It’s sharp.”

“No shit, Sherlock, give me the damn knife back before I pull my other one out and give you a proper introduction.”

He glanced at her, raising his eyebrows, “What color is the other one, I might want to get you to show me.”

“Damn it.”

He couldn’t help it, she was so easy to stir up. He closed the knife, opening it again, standing up and testing it, moving it through the air, then closed it, sitting back down and handing it to her, “It’s a good knife, even if it’s something a unicorn would use to murder someone.”

“Oh, well, I’m so very, very glad to have the Semi seal of approval,” she rolled her eyes sarcastically, reaching into the pocket of her jacket to pull out a box. Throwing it at him. He caught it easily, not even surprised, “What’s this?”

“Something stupid I got you that you definitely don’t deserve cause you are the stupidest whiny bitch I’ve ever met in my whole entire fucking life.”

He stared at her, tilting his head more the longer she talked, then nodded, “Are you done?”

“Fuck you.”

He shook his head, opening the box, his eyes widening as he looked at the switchblade nestled in the cotton, looking up to see Aoi purposefully ignoring him by sticking her nose back into the book, then looking back down, “Yo-you…wh—what did you…”

No one had ever given him anything without expecting something in return.  _Ever._ He didn’t know what to say.

“It’s a gift, not a marriage proposal, take a breath there, Semi, you’re fine—it was a two for one sale, nothing special.”

She was lying.

Completely, and she accepted the fact that he probably knew she was lying because he was stupidly extra that way, but she didn’t care, she wasn’t going to admit that she’d had that blade specially created for him, it was perfectly balanced, it was weighted to glide when it opened and closed, and it was by all professional standards absolutely perfect—even if it  _was_  rainbow colored like hers.

She had to look up at him when she heard the metallic swish, as he’d stood up and was testing it, moving it from one hand to the other, opening and closing it, then laying it on his finger, his eyes wide, clearly understanding how perfected the blade was and not for one moment believing that this was something cheap and store bought, this was clearly custom made.

He moved in a striking pattern and she wished that she could see him fight once, as a spectator, because she could only imagine how beautiful he was when he was in his zone.

“You don’t have to use it.”

He studied her for a moment, then sat down, not really knowing how to handle situations such as this, but nodding, “I probably won’t.”

In the same way that he knew her, she damn well knew him and she could hear the lie in his voice, laughing lightly, as she reached into the other pocket of her jacket, tossing the box onto the coffee table, “Then I guess you don’t need the one for your other hand then?”

His eyes grew wide, and he could feel his hands itching to grab it, to touch it, and he looked over at her, “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

He couldn’t help it, reaching forward to knock the lid off, pulling the other knife out, and holding it, loving the weight in his hand, then glancing over at her.

“What are you wearing?”

She took a deep breath, laying her book down on her stomach, trying to be patient, “What?”

“What are you wearing?”

She glanced down, looking back up at him confused, “Fucking clothes?”

“You don’t usually wear shorts.”

“I—I…fuck you, shut up, I wear what I want,” she hissed, embarrassed because he even noticed, picking her book up to make a point to ignore him completely.

“I was going to say I like them, but clearly, you don’t want to talk to me anymore,” he mused, rolling on his side on the couch, staring across the room at whatever had caught his interest for the moment.

She glanced at him, he’d been out earlier in the day and hadn’t changed yet, lounging there in his dress pants, white shirt, unbuttoned far too low for her composure, and a matching vest. He had on tennis shoes with it, because no way was he going to be normal. She had no idea what he was dressed up for, or what he’d been doing, only that he obviously looked damn fine doing it.

“What did you do today?”

He rolled his head around to look at her, “Why do you care?”

“I was just curious, you can point out that I am wearing something different, what about you?”

He stared at her for a long minute, his expression impassive before he smiled, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He cast his attention back across the room again, and she found herself wanting to punch him, settling for thrusting her leg out to kick him in the side, “Fucking tell me anyway!”

He rolled quickly onto his back, grabbing her leg and twisting it, “Say you’re fucking sorry!”

“I’m not remotely sorry,” she hissed, using her other leg to kick his arm, loosening his grip, pulling her legs back up under her, “Tell me what you did before I hurt you.”

He grinned, loving a challenge, “I wonder what you intend.”

“To find out where you went.”

“Is that all?”

“What the fuck else would I be intending?”

He shrugged, hands patting his vest, then reaching into the pocket and removing a piece of paper from it, wadding it up and throwing it at her, hitting her in the face, laughing when it bounced off an landed in her lap.

She growled, grabbing the paper and opening it up to read it.

“You went to an art exhibit?”

“I did.”

“What the fuck, you did not?!”

“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.”

She stared at the paper, then up at him, and she couldn’t stop the ache that hit her, because he could have asked her, couldn’t he? Have included her? He so rarely goes out of the house, so rarely does anything apart from hits—couldn’t he have taken her?

“It was work,” he murmured, his eyes studying her face, having read clearly what she was thinking.

She felt her cheeks flame that he knew her thoughts, wadding the paper back up and threw it at him, missing completely, “I don’t give a single fuck.”

She put her nose back into her book, and he continued to study her, standing up and stretching, before he leaned over, directly in her face, too close, making her heart stop for a moment, whispering, “Liar.”

He didn’t say another word, just left the room to change clothes, and she watched him walk away, first admiring his backside and the way the pants fit him just so, then calling herself a plethora of names before she began to wonder what would happen if he ever put his unusual skill set to use for good instead of death, dismemberment, and chaos.

_The fucking apocalypse._

* * *

## Part 13

* * *

Semi had walked out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, another towel slung around his hips as he headed to the fridge to get a drink, not even glancing her way before he spoke, “I thought you were gone for a week?”

“I finished early,” she hummed, her eyes studying his form, glad he wasn’t looking at her because the five days she had been gone made her miss him.

_Stupid needy bitch._

_Shut up!_

_But really though, he doesn’t care about you, you’re just an idle play thing to him._

_I said shut up!_

She reached down, pinching her leg so hard she felt the tears stinging in her eyes. Waiting, and thankful when the internal dialogue didn’t resume.

“Well, aren’t you a good little assassin,” he mused, opening the fridge to pull out a water bottle, opening it and drinking half of it in one go. Turning to lean on the kitchen counter as he looked at her, his eyes moving over her like a caress, and she felt like maybe he’d actually missed her too.

“Semi–a-are we ever going to talk?”

“We’re talking right now,” he mused, rolling his eyes.

“We’re not talking, you’re bullying me.”

“I spoke.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

He knew there would be a day, a time when she wouldn’t accept his silence but this seemed too soon, he hadn’t really figured anything out about being a better human, about being a better person, about anything really–but here it was.

“What do you want to know?”

“What happened to you, Semi?”

“No.”

She scoffed, standing up to walk across the room, getting a water bottle for herself, taking a drink before she looked at him again, “Fine, then why can’t I touch you?”

“Because I don’t  _want_ to be touched.”

“But why!?” she knew she was being manipulative, she fully understood that, but she was doing what she figured was the right thing–and she equally knew the conversation could just as easily end up with her a bloody mess again versus any other positive outcome.

She jumped when he turned away abruptly, slamming his fists on the counter, his eyes turned toward the window but unfocused, seeing nothing, “Why do you want to know so much?”

“I just want…I want to know you.”

“You don’t though, Aoi. Anything you learn will just make you run away faster.”

She found the statement hit her square in the chest, and she wasn’t even sure he knew what he’d just said, and she was terrified to say something because he would surely freak out if he knew that he’d just said he wanted her to stay.

“I won’t leave.” 

_It’s the truth, I won’t leave._

He was startled by how close she was, her voice directly behind him, as he hadn’t even realized she’d moved, and he cursed himself for being so weak, for not being on his guard.

_That shit is gonna get you killed, boy._

He shook his head, the noise deafening, “My Dad killed my Mom, when I was five, in front of me.”

Aio’s chest felt like a million daggers had just been pounded into it, the pain so intense, as she covered her mouth to keep from making a noise—not just because what he’d said was necessarily shocking, that sounded about on par with what anyone would suspect of someone as twisted up as he was, even if the words were painful when said out loud–no, not just that at all—it was also because he was actually talking, he was telling her the truth.

“Not some crime of passion, mind you, no, nothing like that, it was hate filled, contemptuous, murder. She died, right there in front of me.” His voice was lower when he spoke, “There was so much…blood…everywhere.”

He shook his head, his voice going back to normal again, ”My dad just shook his head, putting his hand on my shoulder, his voice unrepentant, ‘she was weak, now she doesn’t have to suffer anymore.’ And…no one cared, my Mom was no one anyone would miss, no one to come looking for her, ask questions. I don’t know what he did with her, but…he left and after that, we moved, away from that home, and we never talked about it again.”

She couldn’t believe it, couldn’t imagine such pain at such a young age, at least the things she’d experienced she understood what was happening, but how could he?

She watched his back tense, the muscles rippling as he gripped the edge of the counter, his voice low, “I was too young to leave him, obviously, but I decided once I knew I could get away and survive, I would.”

His body shook as he took a breath, shuddering, “I knew he didn’t care, I don’t know what guilt kept him leaving money for me a few times a month, but it felt tainted, and I hated him.”

It was quiet for a moment, his voice low, “He was terrified of me, I only saw him a few times a week, but I knew, and he never slept there, never went to sleep where I was.”

He shrugged, “I left when I was old enough to get out, I didn’t care, I wasn’t going to stay there, I heard things, I saw things, and everyone hated me. I scared them. They should have been scared, they were right to be, I was completely broken.”

She stayed silent, trying to not say anything that would make him stop talking, withdraw again, and his voice floated, a monotone as he continued to speak, wanting, needing him to finally tell his story. For him it was as if once the story began, he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop telling her, couldn’t stop yearning for her acceptance, and part of him was screaming that all this was going to do was make her run away faster–but he still couldn’t stop. 

It was like a compulsion, a need as much as slicing a throat to silence the noise, a need that would only be met by purging the very words from his soul.

“When you are small and stupid and you don’t know anything about life you trust people, you think what they tell you, that it’s truth, and there’s a huge market out there for young boys–and I found myself caught up in it.”

His body shuddered, his voice lower as he continued, “…I didn’t escape like you did.”

He turned then, and she jumped because his face was so smooth, so soft, and he was so vulnerable, and he reached over, unbuckling the leather bracelet he wore all the time on his arm, and turning his wrist out to her, so she could see the strange markings there, the odd scars, “This was from acid.”

His hand raised slowly, his fingers held out close to her face, and he shook his hand, urging her to grab it, so she did, and he whispered, “Look closely.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant, but when she looked at his fingertips she realized, there were no prints there, her voice hushed, “Oh my God.”

“They burned them off. They said, ‘you’re nothing boy, nothing and no one, no one could even say who you are now, you’re who we say you are’ and…I eventually believed them.”

He gestured his hands up and down his body, and her eyes were wide, confused about what he was going to do, and then he held his arms out beside him, turning slowly, and she couldn’t help but be amazed every time she saw him like this, because he had one of the most beautiful bodies she’d ever seen.

“They knew to not mark the skin, to deform or destroy their ‘prize’–they knew how to hurt me without leaving marks, without ruining their investment. Electricity, drinks that burned my throat and stomach and intestines…” he paused his hand drifting up to rest on his throat like he was caught up in a memory.

She gasped, her own hand mimicking his as she touched her throat, the word barely audible when it bubbled up out of her mouth, “Bleach.”

_The blue and white bottle of bleach._

She watched him swallow, and then he nodded, “Yes, and others, chemicals that would hurt me, but not kill me, noises that they played for days and weeks and months. I still hear them…”

He shook his head, “And once they’d broken me completely, they told me that my job was to make people happy,” he laughed bitterly, “I was no one, I was nothing, and my only job was to make people happy. They took my name, they took my identity, and they took my humanity.”

His head tilted down, no longer able to look at her, his words laced with something she couldn’t place, so small, so quiet, so ashamed, “When I was fourteen, they hired a woman to teach me.”

He stopped talking, and Aoi knew he was lost in a memory and she wanted to stop him, tell him it didn’t matter anymore, she didn’t need to know anything else, she already knew it, she wanted just to fix it, to stop this because it was hurting him, and she didn’t want him to hurt anymore.

“Teach you w-what?” she didn’t mean for the words to spill out, but they did, and he didn’t move, didn’t react, she wasn’t even sure he was breathing.

“How to make people  _happy_.”

She knew…some of this, but it wasn’t about her knowing, after all, Iwanishi had told her so much about him. About his past, about what the people had done to him–but not this, not all of it, maybe he hadn’t even known these things.

When his eyes finally met hers, she read the truth in them, her heart breaking as she fought back the urge to scream, the bile rising up in her throat as her stomach lurched, because it was one thing for someone to tell you something about a stranger, but an entirely other monster to see the pain etched into their very soul standing in front of you.

“Everyone thinks men are the perverts, you know?” He laughed bitterly, “That’s what the world says, but it’s not true, I mean, maybe they are but I never met them, it was women, they were the ones, they wanted boys…young boys, pretty boys, boys who were both masculine and feminine, boys like me–these women wanted to live out their fantasies with them…. with me.”

She snapped her mouth shut, her fingers clenching into a fist, her body shaking as she cursed the kind of world they lived in, the horrible people inhabiting it,  _why, why would people do such things to a young boy?! A boy who wasn’t old enough to make decisions for himself? WHY!?_

“Women paid a lot of money to spend the night with me—I was lucky, there were only three of them, despite my owners trying to deal me out to more, only three could afford me.” 

She shuddered, the word ‘lucky’ falling off his lips like that was some kind of goodness to be found in such dark circumstances, and it made her heart hurt.

He seemed like a lost little boy to her then, so small and fragile and when he looked at her, there was something there that just begged for her to not run away, his words laced with apprehension as he spoke, “Once I realized that there was no way to escape,” he leaned back onto the counter, crossing his arms, “I decided I needed to work the system. The woman who had been my teacher, she liked me, she took care of me, I got to go places with her sometimes and stuff. So, if I had to be treated a certain way, at least I could get things from it. That’s how I was thinking.”

“So… I started asking for more, more time with her, more gifts, more of everything, and suddenly she started to take me on vacation with her, so I got to see new places–see new things. The idea I could leave wasn’t as appealing, because she was paying enough for me then that I didn’t have to see other people, I got to live there with her, just going back to the owners sometimes, to make sure I was still in good form, still obedient.”

“And then, I guess there was a time where I decided this was all I really was, a guy who lived to make her happy, you know, and she was nice. I didn’t hate her. I decided the best thing I could do is find someone who would treat me better than the people who owned me—and that was her.”

“She was stupidly rich, and while she had some eccentric tastes, she was always gentle, always sweet to me, and I started taking special care to meet all of her needs, to be soft, to be what she wanted–and to talk to her, to give her the companionship she was so clearly seeking.”

“My plan worked, and she offered to buy me from my owners. She’d promised me freedom, she talked about getting me out of the country, because she didn’t trust them, didn’t trust my owners, she felt like they’d take her money and then take me back again, and I agreed, they probably would do that. I wanted to accept this care, this kind of weird affection from her, you know, cause even though she admitted she would probably still seek out another boy after me, she would see to it that I was made free, that was the least she could do, after having been seeing me for two years.”

He took a deep shuddering breath, his voice soft and tempered, “I-I…t-they killed her.”

“W-why would they do that!?” Aoi’s voice was trill and sharp and she hated the way he flinched at her tone, like he’d done something wrong.

“They knew they had another ten—maybe even fifteen years that I would serve them well, and there’s no away that the woman would be willing to pay enough to make up for the amount of money they would lose. They were worried she would reveal their operation if she was put out by their refusal, so they offered her a special treat day with me…and when she arrived, they brought me into the room…and I knew nothing, I didn’t know what had happened or what they were doing.”

“They…they made…”

He shook his head his fingers slamming into his eyes, as if he was trying to stop a vision playing through his head, one hand moving to grasp his ear, “They made me kill her. Put a knife into my hand, and they had her on the floor on her knees, holding her hair so they could lift her head, and she didn’t…she didn’t argue, she didn’t…. even try to stop it…she knew. I don’t know, but she knew that if I didn’t do this–they were going to do something horrible to me…something worse than what they were already doing…and she whispered to me…’I love you, Semi, find your freedom’ and it was like I wasn’t even the person there, my hand reached forward, and it was done, the light fading from her eyes as she choked on the blood, drowning in it.”

“My owners were gloating, I’d landed on the floor, grabbing her up, she was still warm, her eyes still showing some form of life in them and they were so  _happy_ , talking about how they would see to it that I made up for the loss of their best teacher, and….my eyes, landed on the knife there on the floor beside me, crimson with her blood, and for a moment, it felt like there was a white light behind my eyes, and then…that was the last thing…the final time I was going to be treated like a toy.”

He shook his head, his voice solid, and unrepentant, “I killed them both.”

“They deserved it,” she whispered, “Semi, you did the world a favor.”

“I didn’t know I could kill people, I didn’t know that was an option, but I did, and I ran, and ran and ran.”

“I discovered I was good at killing. I was good with knives. I was fast, strong, and killing people, it was simple. You knew what to expect. You did it and it was done, simple.” He shrugged, like he was telling a perfectly normal life story, like any average human being experienced.

“I’d finished one of my jobs, and there was this kitten, you know—a car hit it and I…I went and got it and buried it. It deserved a proper burial, not an open grave in a street for the humans to gawk at.”

“This man, he made fun of me for burying the cat. Told me that I wasn’t a professional, that I needed to learn more and it made me furious, I wanted to kill him, hell, I tried to kill him.”

Semi smiled, glancing up to Aoi finally, his eyes soft, “He had kind eyes and he laughed and he talked like I was an old friend, taking me in to get me cleaned up.”

“Iwanishi.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “He thought he made me into a killer, but I already was, I was born to it, that’s all. Good with my hands, good with my knives.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” she stepped forward, closer to him, “Semi, you were a victim, of your Dad, of those vile people who sold you to the highest bidder…you may kill now for your own reason, but you didn’t then, you were doing what you had to do to survive.”

He pressed back into the counter when she’d moved forward, and she smiled, because he could snap her neck, or kill her in a breath, but he seemed terrified of her, “Semi, listen, I’m a killer, I have no remorse, I have no issues about killing people, I mean, I’m honest enough to admit, I like it–but I chose it, and you chose too–but that, the things that happened before the choice? That wasn’t you, and you can’t take that into yourself.”

“I see something  _else_  in you,” she whispered, boldly stepping forward until her mouth was nearly touching his chest, her warm breath whisping across his skin as he clenched his fingers even more tightly at his sides, “You are  _more_  than a killer, you are  _more_  than a victim, you are  _more_ than that little boy.”

“Aoi,” he lifted his hands, grasping her arms, squeezing them tightly as he tilted his head down to look at her, “I am not good for you. You need to go, and forget about this, whatever you’re thinking it’s just not possible.”

“I-I tried Semi, it’s why I didn’t come here for so long…” she felt him clench tighter on her arms, “I…I can’t leave, not anymore.”

She shook her head, “I came here because he told me that if something happened to him, you would need me to take care of you.”

He couldn’t stop the shock from showing on his face at this admission.

“But I didn’t want to,” she murmured, looking up into his eyes, “I had watched you, sometimes when you didn’t know, and I knew about you and in some weird way I felt like I knew you–and then when he died, I tried to stay away, because I thought I would just be another complication for you.”

She sighed softly, “But I…I was never alone, and I didn’t like it, I didn’t want it, I wanted to be with you because we shared something, we shared him, all of this, our lives match. I came to check on you, and I thought…well, I figured if you were okay, if you were doing fine, I would just leave you be, just go on let you live in peace.”

“But I  _wasn’t fine_ …”

“No, you were more broken than I’d ever seen you.”

She swallowed, taking a deep breath, “I didn’t plan…I…I didn’t mean to…care about you like this. It…it wasn’t what I wanted. I just didn’t…I didn’t want to be alone, that’s all.”

His eyes were wide and clear, and as he stared at her, she was startled to realize that she would rather die than to leave him.

She knew his story, she knew what had happened to him, what had been done to him, what he’d seen and experienced, and in him she hoped she’d find someone who could see something other than the monster she was, the way she saw past his monster to see who he really was.

She leaned up on her tiptoes, her lips pressing softly into his, his eyes wide and his breath caught in his throat, her fingertips digging into the muscles on his chest, and he jerked her arms, pushing her back, “Don’t! You need to go,” he started shuffling her backwards, his eyes flashing wildly around them, “Y-you have to go!”

He was manhandling her toward the door and she knew if he got her out then he’d see to it she never made it back in again, her gut intuition was screaming that it would either be that or he’d disappear, he’d leave, because she could see the resolution, he’d let her too close, told her too much–this was her only chance, she bent down, moving her head under his arm, breaking his grip on her and running across the room away from the door, him following after, “I’m not leaving, I’m not going to leave you alone again. I’d rather die than leave you alone.”

He stopped, staring at her, “You don’t even  _know me_.”

“I know  _everything_  about you Semi,  _everything_ , even the things you didn’t tell me. Even if I didn’t…I know you. I know who you are, I can see it in your eyes!”

His breath stopped for a moment, as he evaluated her for any lie, and finding none, he realized that she had mostly likely been told everything Iwanishi knew, and despite him knowing that she now knew more than Iwanishi knew, he was still shocked, still startled to imagine she knew a fraction of what he’d done, what he’d experienced, the nature of his soul.

_Black and tarnished with the depth of blood on my hands._

“ _Why would you still want to stay?_ ” his voice was laced with confusion, with uncertainty, because it just didn’t make sense.

“It wasn’t your fault, none of it was ever your fault,” she cried out at him, “the same way what happened to me wasn’t my fault. You told me that, remember? You told me it wasn’t my fault what happened.”

He stared at her, his voice flat, “It wasn’t.”

“Then, Semi, it’s not your fault either what happened to you!”

“I can’t give you what you’re looking for, Aoi, I can’t give you absolution,” he spoke slowly, “I can’t even begin to find my own.”

“I don’t  _want_ absolution,” shaking her head, her eyes following his movements, prepared to dart away if he seemed like he was going to lunge for her, “Absolution is for souls who are  _sorry_  for what they’ve done. That’s not me…that’s not  _you_ either, Semi,  _that’s not us_.”

“Aoi! Please, you have to listen to me, there is no ‘us’—you don’t understand,  _you don’t know me_ , not really! You think you do, but you don’t!” His expression was earnest, and she frowned, because why did he have to be so insistent about this?

Maybe they hadn’t spent a lot of time together, eight months, it wasn’t that long when she considered a lifetime, but if you knew? If your heart was bent toward someone, then how much time did you really need? Why couldn’t she  _know_  how she felt. Why would she need more time to be sure, when she felt the certainty of the connection with him on the deepest cellular level of her entire body.

Eight months, fine, maybe not as much as most people who manage to somehow bridge the gap between friend and lovers—but why couldn’t they? 

_Why shouldn’t they?_

“I just…Semi—all I want is to be with you!” she took a deep breath, steeling her nerves, not sure how he would react to these words, the confession she needed to get out of her system, “I have waited for you to realize, I wanted you to know, figure it out…but Semi—I am  _here_ , and I  _want_  to be here. There’s nowhere else for me apart from your side. Please, let me be with you. We could be happy together, we could make things right for each other. I could see to it you are  _never_  alone,  _never again_. Just…let me take care of you!”

She thought he was going to hug her, the way his arms moved, the way he stepped forward, his voice soft on her face, “That’s not  _possible_ , Aoi,” and then his hands were around her throat, and he was squeezing, and she jerked, her hands clawing at his arms as he squeezed tighter. She kicked at him, trying to hit him, finally landing a blow to his groin, causing him to loosen his grip enough to scramble away.

He landed on the floor, grabbing her feet and dragging her down to the ground, her fingers latching onto the coffee table leg, the loud skidding noise deafening in the room as it moved with her, his strength too much, and she lost her grip.

He was on top of her, rolling her over, pinning her hands to the side as he glared at her, quickly gathering her wrists in one hand above her head, and then she heard the tell-tale metallic noise and she closed her eyes, because he had the knife and it was pressed against her throat, and she admonished herself for wondering how he’d hid that when all he was wearing was a towel.

_Of all the stupid things to think before you die, Aoi!_

She opened her eyes, looking at him and all she could see was the monster—it had happened so fast, it had hit him immediately—whatever that self-protective mechanism is inside of his brain that refuses to let him make a connection from fear, from doubt, from self-loathing—the monster had taken over almost instantly. She trembled as she watched his head constantly ticking to the side, in that way it did when the noise was controlling him,  _nothing_  of the Semi she’d slowly been able to uncover seemed to be alive in his eyes, they were cold and she knew the noise was deafening to him right now, that the drive to kill her was so strong because it would give him a reprieve from the noise, and she’d said it right?

She’d rather die than leave him alone again?

_I meant it._

She felt his hesitation, slowly working her hand out of his and grasping his wrist that held the knife to her neck, his eyes moving from her face to look at the hand, his expression puzzled, and she pressed it, pushing it into her neck, whispering, her eyes connected to his as they darted back to hers, “I don’t want to live without you. If you are going to send me away, then please, just do it.”

His eyes widened, his mouth opening and then his eyes slowly moved to look back down at her neck where a tiny bubble of blood was welling up from the first nick of the knife. 

He was enthralled by it, staring and then he jerked his hand, and she thought for sure he’d just done it, just killed her finally, but instead she heard the sound of the knife clattering on the floor away from them, and then he was breathing heavily, his body shaking, as he stared at the drop of blood pooling on her skin.

Within seconds, his entire body was trembling, his fists clenched in front of him, a strangling, choking noise coming from his throat as he tried to speak, “I—I…Aoi…no…pl—please…”

His hands slammed to the floor beside her head, his face close to hers, his breath hot and heavy against her skin, before he tilted his head sideways, his mouth opening, and she shuddered, body on fire, when she felt his smooth tongue glide against the surface of her throat, licking away the blood, his body curling forward. His mouth held fast to her skin, then broke, kissing the bruised spot softly, groaning when she reached up, her hands twisting into his hair, whispering, “I meant it, Semi, I did…I meant it,  _please_  don’t make me leave you. I love you.”

He lifted his head, looking at her, his expression soft, but with an edge of something she didn’t recognize, and then he leaned down, his lips touching hers tenderly, softly, so much like a whisper, and she felt like her heart was going to explode out of her chest, fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him closer, her toes curling when she felt his tongue dart out, tracing the line of her bottom lip before he froze, eyes wide and absolutely terrified.

The sound he made was feral, a war within, and she had no idea what part of him was winning—would win, she had no idea what was happening, but then he was standing up over her, and he turned to leave, going toward the bathroom, and she stood up, frantic, her voice pleading, laced with desperation, “ _Please, Semi! I love you!_ ”

“Fucking hell,” he hissed, and then he was there, in front of her, closing the space in a blink and his mouth of was on hers, insistent, demanding, his tongue not polite, not gentle, rather it was harsh and violent as it explored her mouth, his teeth sharp against her lips as he bit her, her hands trying to push him away and pull him closer at the same time.

“This is what you want?!” his voice was venomous, rough and painful, his fingers pinching her face tightly as he held her still, making her look into his eyes.

“ _Is this_  who you love?” he released her face, grabbing her hair, and pulling her toward him, his mouth punishing and angry.

Then his touch was everywhere, her body wobbling as he ripped the front of her shirt buttons scattering across the floor, and he had jerked it down off her body, and she was shaking, she was struggling, trying to get away, but before she could move he’d managed to quickly discard her bra and she tried to cover herself, “Semi! Stop! Please!”

His hands were on her shoulders, holding her still, and then his mouth was on her neck, his hands so  _soft_ on her skin, a weird contrast to how rough they were in touching her, the silky-smooth surface of his fingertips like velvet but harsh, demanding as they shoved her hands away from her chest to touch her.

Everything was happening so fast, he was like a tornado, set into motion, a flurry of movement, and she needed to see his eyes, needed to get a look at them, then she’d know…which Semi she was dealing with, but then he spoke, his voice like the devil unleashed into the room, and she knew.

_The monster. The noise._

“ ** _Am I the one you love?_** ”

She couldn’t think couldn’t respond, he had her skirt hiked up, somehow having backed her up against the kitchen counter, and she was starting to panic, starting to feel scared, because she knew that if the monster did this, then Semi would never forgive himself. He would hate himself, and eventually, he would blame her, which was too horrible to even consider. She wanted this, she did, but not like this, not in a way that would only hurt him, not when all she wanted more than this, was to heal him.

She tried to push him back, “S-Semi, S-S-Semi, pl-please, not like this…” and then her underwear was ripped off her body, and she felt him jerk away the towel, and she could feel him, his hardness pressed against her, against the secret place she’d guarded for so very, very long, and she couldn’t stop the tears from falling, sobbing, “Sem-mi.”

He was so angry, he was furious, hissing at her, “Isn’t this what you want, Aoi!? Isn’t it?  I’m just giving you what you want!”

She could see the rage as it radiated off him as he pressed against her, his hands holding her hips so she couldn’t shy away, as she took a shuddering breath, her fingers digging into his shoulders, and his voice was like a slap to her face, a whisper and a scream all wrapped up into one, “ _This_  is who I am!”

He was screaming it then, her body shaking from the volume, and he was shaking too, his words so harsh, “This is who I am! This is  _all_  I am.”

The walls and windows felt like they were rattling in fear from the evil in his voice, “This is who I am! Do you hear me! I am nobody, nothing, I don’t deserve anything from you or anyone!”

She was shuddering, her tears streaming down her face, and she didn’t believe it, she wouldn’t believe it, “N-no, no, S-Semi, please, those are lies! Don’t listen to them!”

She shook her head, and he growled, hands holding her tighter still, biting into her skin, and his voice screamed at her again, causing her to cringe, “This is who I am!”

“It’s not, it’s not,” she cried out, her tears mixing with her voice, “Semi, I don’t believe it, you’re not him, you’re not just the monster.”

“Y-you, look at you, crying, crying, I’m this close and all you feel is fear,” he hissed, “I terrify you because I  _am_  the fucking monster, Aoi! You’re terrified right now, you’re crying—I—I did that, because  _that’s what I do_!”

“No, Semi,” she tried to calm down, needed to think, needed to be smart enough to say the right things, to bring Semi out of this, “Y-you didn’t…it’s not you…it’s not this. Semi, you deserve to be loved!”

He laughed, and it was the sound of a madman, “No one has ever loved me. I am utterly unlovable, because this,” he slapped his chest hard, “THIS! This is who I am, Aoi! THIS IS WHO I AM!”

She could see it…he was giving her a chance, he was somehow still battling, and he’d released her, he’d moved a fraction of an inch back, but Semi knew that was all she needed, to get away, to make it to the door, and he was watching her, he was waiting for her to make the move—and she couldn’t tell, she didn’t know whose eyes they were, Semi or the monster.

_It doesn’t matter. They are both him._

“No, no, no…Semi,” she shook her head, “I meant what I said, I’ll never leave you.”

She took a deep breath, and then she reached forward, her hands sliding across his shoulders to grasp his neck, to twine in his hair, and she pulled him closer, instead of pushing him away, instead of running, she drug him into her, and he allowed himself to be moved.

She pulled him into her arms, wrapping them around him, holding him tightly, whispering in his ear, “I’m never leaving you, Semi. I’m never giving up on you.”

He felt perfect there in her arms, and the air felt lighter, easier to breath, and Aoi could feel it, her position had him right there, she could tell that if she just moved a little he would be inside her—but she couldn’t move, couldn’t do it, take the choice away from him like that, so she held still.

Slowly, she shifted, pulling back to look at him, her hands resting on his shoulders as his heavy breath hit her face, and she could see it, the fading, as quickly as the rage had started it seemed to be washing away from him, and his face was morphing from the angry, self-loathing one to one of confusion, of uncertainty, of fear, fear of who he was, where he was, what he was doing, and the sadness that she hated was drifting back into his eyes, the part of him that was absolutely convinced he  _deserved_  to be alone.

“No, no, no…” she shook her head, “Please, Semi, listen to me–please, just listen, you aren’t those things. I love you! I want this, I want you,” to punctuate her words she shifted closer to him, “I want it, please, but  _not the way you’ll hate yourself for it._ ”

He stared at her, his expression blank, and that was enough, enough to give her courage, because he was stalled, the blind rage gone and the reason seemed to be coming back into his eyes, slowly, slowly.

“S-Semi, please, believe me,  _I’m not afraid of you_ – I know the truth–and you’re not going to hurt me.”

“How c-can you be…sure?” he whispered, his eyes looking to her for some reason in the insanity, some truth that he could grasp onto, “Tell me, Aoi, tell me and  _I’ll try to believe it_.”

She struggled for the words, wanting to make him understand—how strong he was, how many times the monster had the chance to kill her but hadn’t—couldn’t because Semi was stronger. She wanted to show him how he looked to her, how beautiful, how precious, how he was so smart, he was so gifted, but the words, they were caught there in her chest, refusing to come forth.

So, when they did not come easily, she spoke in the only language she could think of, leaning forward, her hands moving to his face, cradling his cheeks in her fingertips, reaching to slowly kiss him, trying to show him some softness, some gentleness, if it was the last thing she would do, if this was the last act she would do in this life, she’d do it with all her heart, with all the love she had saved and put away inside herself, she’d use it to show him that he wasn’t who he’d been told he was.

He held still, his entire body rigid, and then, his hand moved, coming up to twine his fingers through her hair, pulling her closer still as her mouth opened, his lips sliding against hers as she dipped into his mouth curiously, and he moaned softly, his tongue meeting hers.

His other hand moved, slowly tracing a line up her side to her breast, cupping it gently, then stroking it with his thumb, rolling and teasing, and he broke away from her, moving down her neck with fluttering kisses, bowing his body to lean down, sucking her gently into his mouth as she tilted her head back, her hands sliding down his back, scratching softly—and she wiggled, the part of him pressing against her slipping inward, and she groaned as she felt it.

He hissed pulling back, like he had just come to his senses, just realized how lost in the moment he was, his hands gripping her hips to stop her movement, “Aoi—y-you want…this? Me?”

“More than anything,” she whispered, “I don’t want anyone except you.”

He stared at her, his words soft when he spoke, “Wh-why, Aoi?”

“I-I love you, Semi,” she held his face, her thumbs stroking his cheek, “I just…I love you. I don’t know any other reason. I don’t think there is another one. I just…I want to be close to you.”

He stared at her, his body stilled and she pushed her palms on the counter behind her, lifting herself and she rolled her hips gently, and he went in further still, and she moaned because it hurt, it was stinging everywhere, a strange burning sensation, but she wanted nothing more than this with him, to be with him, give herself to him fully, “I—I can’t do it…it….it hurts…please, Semi, just do it.”

“O-okay,” he whispered, shifting his body, and in one pivot of his hips, a strong hard push, he’d seated himself deep inside her. She cried out, grasping desperately against his skin as she hung onto him, and he held still, his breath fast and his fingers digging into her skin as he waited, his head dropping onto her shoulder, his breath heavy on her skin, words tangled, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Aoi, fuck…”

She knew he was sorry, he was sorry he’d done this now, already, she could feel him, could feel the way he wanted to retreat, and she held him fast, not willing to let him go, not now, “Semi—please, listen to me, please.”

His litany continued on despite her words in his ear, “Semi—I’m yours, if nothing else in the world matters, I’m here, and I am not leaving, I am yours, I’ve somehow belonged to you from the first time I saw you in your stupid bunny hoodie six years ago. I’m not leaving you, Semi, I’m never leaving you. I want to be here with you, I want to be with you, Semi.”

She clung to him then, she her voice was low and soft with tears, her head turning into him as she whispered, “Semi, I love you. Please don’t make me leave you, please let me stay with you. I-I love you, Semi.”

He was still, the words, the noises, everything had stopped, and he was so still, and she couldn’t even tell if he was breathing or not, and she grasped him tighter, “Semi, I love you, please hear it.”

“I hear it,” he whispered softly, his body shuddering with the deep breath he took, “Everything is quiet, Aoi, I hear you.”

He groaned, his hands coming under her backside to lift her as he carried her to the bedroom, laying her down gently on the bed, keeping their connection, and he leaned up on his elbows, looking at her face, kissing her lips softly, his eyes studying hers, “I-is it true?”

“Yes,” she whispered, nodding her head, her hands reaching up to graze across his shoulders, one reaching to twist through his hair, “It’s true.”  
  
“I don’t, but…I don’t know…love…how it…how to…but I want to, to love you.”

“Shh…” she smiled, shushing him softly, “We…we can figure it out together?”

He seemed to contemplate this, tilting his head, and then his eyes swept back to hers, “How?”

She leaned up to kiss him softly, “Together we will,” and he leaned down, his lips lightly touching hers, brushing them softly, as if sealing the promise with a kiss, pulling back, his hand stroking her cheek, “A-are you okay?”

She tested her hips, trying to figure out if she was, “I-I think so.”

She nodded, not sure what was going to happen now, but he shifted, his body sure, learned, and she put her trust into him as he leaned up, pulling back onto his knees, easily lifting her pelvis up with him, causing her back to bow on the bed, and he groaned, a low sound, “It will be better for you to control the movements the first time, okay?”

She shrugged her shoulders, having no idea what to expect, and then his hands moved, lifting her up and she was astride him, and it felt like he went even deeper and she was trying to catch her breath, the burning pain slowly giving way to new sensations, and he nodded, twisting until he fell under her and she was on top of him, his eyes grazing appreciatively over her body before he smiled, his voice soft, “Like this.”

His hands went to her hips, and he moved them in a slow circular motion, and she groaned loudly, her hands gripping his forearms, as she felt the sensation deep inside of her. She opened her eyes, to look down at him, his hair laying across the dark pillowcase, like a halo around his head, and he looked like an angel to her. Not the monster, not an assassin, but a beautiful broken boy who just wanted to be loved.

_I love him. I will love him better than anyone who has ever been loved._

He looked so beautiful, his skin glowing, his eyes open, clear, and he was smiling at her, like he was seeing her for the first time too, and she wondered what he was seeing, what he thought, and she struggled, wanting to cover the scars that were etched across her body, both the ones she’d placed there and especially the ones others had, and as if he’d read her mind, he gasped at her movements, and then the edges of his mouth curled into a smile, his voice soft in the room around them, “You’re beautiful too, Aoi.”

She absently wondered if she’d said the words out loud, blinking rapidly, because she wanted to believe it, wanted him to see her as beautiful, wanted him to see her as anything other than the monster who wore all the demons she possessed on her skin, and he snapped at her, his voice loud and startling, “Aoi!”

Her eyes darted back to his, not even realizing she’d looked away, trying to hide from him like she hides from everyone, but he wouldn’t have it, “Look at me!” 

She nodded, his voice softer when he spoke again, “Don’t hide anymore, ‘kay?”

She bit her lip, not wanting to promise something she couldn’t keep, “I-I’ll try.”

He sighed, and she knew he didn’t really want to take an answer like that but he’d hold her to it, “I haven’t lied to you, have I?”

“N-no,” she groaned softly as his fingers dug into her skin, still moving her gently on top of him.

“I think you’re beautiful, and I’m not lying.”

His fingers moved softly on the scars on her legs, moving up to her abdomen, tracing the intricate lines there, looking back up to her, “They are like art. They make your skin fascinating, you have bled, and then you have lived again and again…maybe that’s why you have so many bubbles.”

She marveled at his words, the way they struck her heart, wanting to believe it so much, taking a shuddering breath, tears prickling her eyes, and she cursed herself for being so stupid, but he saw it, he knew what it was, and he shushed her, he pulled himself up so he could kiss her gently, and as the tears fell he just kissed them away, until she just laughed, “I’m so stupid.”

“You’re perfect,” he spoke as he dropped back to the bed, his eyes fluttering closed, a smile covering his face, and then he whispered, “now…this…” his hands stopped her circular motion, and instead slid her hips forward and backward and another new and fantastic feeling swelled up inside of her, and she moved in the back and forth pattern, a strong, powerful pleasure tickling at the front of her belly.

He didn’t speak again, his face strained with concentration, as he lifted her hips, showing her to move up and down, his length slowly gliding through her and it was like she could feel every fraction of movement in her entire body, and when she’d raised herself to the top, she paused, and he nodded, and she slowly slid her body back down, and he hissed, his fingers clenching on her skin.

She didn’t know when it happened so caught up in the sensations, of the feeling of him inside her, of him surrounding her, of his very presence in the room, like a living force moving through her, and everything was so beautiful, but he’d released her hips, and gave her the freedom to move on her own, and she was finding a rhythm, her eyes closing, as she lost herself in him.

The sound of him groaning made her eyes snap open, not sure if it was a sound of pleasure or pain as it was so foreign to her. Eyes landing on his, and finding there some measure of pain, of suffering, but at the same time something else, something soft and gentle, and even happy. His eyes held hers, the conflicting emotions rolling through him and she leaned forward, making sure he couldn’t lie to her.

“A-are you okay?” she asked, her body stilled, her hands resting on his chest, his fingers still moving on her skin, lightly stroking the scars on her abdomen, “I—Semi—I don’t want to be like those women.”

She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, not at all, and she wondered if this was a horrible idea, because the last thing she wanted was to hurt him, but he shushed her, smiling softly, and his body shook, shuddered as he took a breath, and she watched wide eyed as a tear pooled and then slid slowly down the side of his face into his hair, and she started to speak, but his hand moved up to cover her mouth, shaking his head, his voice gentled with emotion, “You’re not like them, Aoi.”

He moved his hand from her mouth, and she took a deep breath, curious, and uncertain about it, “W-what makes me different?”

He laughed lightly, rolling his hips under her causing her to tremble as he hit an especially sensitive spot, his voice holding a tone she’d never heard before, never experienced from him before as many times as she’d created emotional responses in him, admittedly usually negative, this one was unique and different among the better ones, filled with reverence, laced with worship, and the words rushed across her skin as if they were being etched into her very soul, “…because…”

“… _you asked me if I was okay_.”

She wanted to cry, wanted to hold him, take care of him, never leave him, console him, because her life was fucked up, she was crazy as hell, and she  _liked_  to kill people, but the truth was, she knew how to love and be loved—even if she’d never allowed anyone to ever get close enough, she knew how, she knew what it was, and she wasn’t scared of it–she wanted to teach him to love himself, to love her, to see who he really was—but for tonight, she just wanted him to feel that someone cared about him before their own selfish pleasures.

She meant to see to it. 

Not just this night. But every night, as long as he’d have her. 

_I mean to see to it._

* * *

## Part 14

* * *

She did.

 


	2. She Ran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: This Is Who I Am. ⇐link to main story  
> Scene: 2, She Ran  
> Pairing/Relationship: Semi/OC  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Warnings: NSFW, Please see original list { HERE }  
> Genre: Angst, Criminal, DARK DARK DARK!
> 
> Summary: Semi and Aoi trying to figure out who and what they really are together.
> 
> 1) if you haven’t read the first chapter, you need to! This is Scene 2.
> 
> 2) This scene doesn’t have as many warnings as the original chapter but I am not going to lower the rating on it or anything because I feel like the sum total of all of the collection will end up with the same rating and warnings. If you’re uncertain, see the original list { HERE }

 

Aoi blinked slowly, the ceiling she was staring at foreign, unknown, confusing—gasping, jerking upright in a panic, and then she felt it. The tenderness between her legs, and she covered her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes tightly and tried to stay quiet, because she could hear it then—Semi breathing softly next to her. She held her breath as she cautiously turned her head to look at him, her eyes nearly popping out of her head as she took him in.

The black comforter was pulled up to his hips, but his chest was bare, one arm slung across his belly, the other over his head—his hair was a crazy halo of messy whispy silver streaks on the dark pillowcase, and his face—it was so soft, so serene—he looked so peaceful, so completely at ease, she’d almost say he looked angelic, almost—but she knew better—yet she wondered—was it because of her?

_Did I? Did I give him that?_

Last night had surprised her, in many ways…not the least of which was the fact that even though she’d went as much of her life as she could think of without being remotely interested in being close—to anyone really, but most especially men. Certainly, it never occurred to her that she’d actually want anything any different, want to be touched and to be close to one…but Semi made her feel so many unexpected things. 

It wasn’t something she would ever be able to articulate to someone…it was all internal she supposed. If she were even willing to admit it to herself, she would have to say that he was the only person she’d ever looked at in any way other than someone she could use, apart from Iwanishi, of course, and that was a completely different emotion for her. She took care of herself, that was all, and she didn’t need anyone or anything else to look after or worry about. She did what kept her safe, what made her happy, and basically didn’t care who she hurt to ensure those two criteria were met.

So this whole, consider how it makes someone else feels, look after someone else and care for them. That was a new thing for her. To consider other people and their feelings.

Of course, she’d created worlds inside of her mind, so it wasn’t like it was a far reach for her to fall for Semi. Not really—because all of the years she watched him from afar…seeing him move in his space, seeing him grow up and becoming the man he was going to be? She felt things, a connection from across the street and it hurt sometimes, to be apart, and she couldn’t ever understand, because…she’d passed him on the sidewalk once—so close she could smell his cologne, but he walked right past, and she felt her heart ache at the time, because…shouldn’t he feel it too? Couldn’t he feel it too?

Then she just got pissed, because the more work he got, the stronger he became, the more successful he was—and then suddenly she became known as the “girl Semi” which…frankly, she would cut anyone who said it in front of her because seriously? Fuck that! 

_He can be the fucking **guy Aoi!**_

When Iwanishi died, all of the things he’d told her came into sharp focus. And she’d went against all that was in her to approach the boy who was her rival, who didn’t know her, who had no idea how deep their roots ran together.

Still, all the time spent with Semi had created a need in her that she never realized existed—not of a physical nature, no, but of an emotional kind—and last night she’d needed him, needed to feel him close to her, wanted to feel connected to him, in a way she’d never wanted to be reached by anyone. 

Then…when he’d said what he had about her asking if he was okay, it was like a veil was ripped from her eyes, and suddenly nothing about her own ideas of needs or wants or desires mattered anymore. She didn’t know the first thing about how to please a man. She didn’t know the first thing about pleasing herself for the love of God why would she know anything else, she avoided anything remotely related to sex, and even as she blinked, staring at the boy who had taken her virginity, she couldn’t figure out what the big deal was.

At least not as far as her own personal pleasure was—for her, it hadn’t been physical responses from her, no, it was more about the fact that she made  _him_  feel things. It was about the emotional release, and she felt that deep within her body, despite not feeling much else thanks to the stinging, burning, sensation that didn’t really abate. Still, she’d slapped his hands away, when he’d started to sound like he was giving instructions on how to drive a damn car at one point, and it was clear to her that he was only concerned with her pleasure, with her release, and he was completely obsessed with it.

She’d stopped him, made him be still, and she’d been still, and she leaned over him and put his hands on the mattress, threatening to get up and walk out of the bedroom right then and there if he didn’t leave them the fuck there and stop distracting her. She wanted to figure it out—and she understood—he knew what women wanted, but she didn’t even know what she wanted.

His agreement had been reluctant, until she’d whispered, kissing his lips gently, the words that felt right, “I don’t know how to love someone, but I want to learn how, Semi—let me learn how to love you, okay?”

And he’d watched her, his expression tense and somehow, soft at the same time, seeing her exploring him, discovering herself, and he’d lost himself in the pleasure her body was offering with each tentative movement. When his eyes had closed, and she saw it on his face, a pained expression, as she moved over him, she panicked, because she thought she was hurting him, and his hands reached up to grab her hips, his fingertips biting into her skin, desperate, as his eyes plead with hers, his voice low through his gasps, “It’s so g-good, please, Aoi, d-don’t stop.”

And then, when he came it was beautiful, and it made all the aching worth it, because his face, the way his body moved, the way his breath held and to her it had seemed the whole world was standing still, all of the cares and worries and unknowns pulled into his chest, and then when he shuddered, his breath releasing, it felt like he washed her of every fear she’d ever had, and his softly uttered words, and the way it felt like he was invading all of her senses at once—all of it so different than the Semi she’d known. 

He was so… _soft_. So gentle…and then…he cried.

 _He wept_ …deep mournful sobs, and she let him, she moved to lay beside him and he curled into her arms and she held him while he cried. He didn’t talk, and she didn’t figure he’d want to, so she just let him feel what he needed to. He just cried and she held him, stroking his back, moving his hair off his face and kissing him softly, whispering words of comfort that sounded right to her. 

The right things to say, at least she hoped.

_You’re okay, Semi. No one is ever going to hurt you again._

__I’ll never use you, no one will ever be able to use you again._  
_

_You’re safe here, I’m here and I’m not going to let someone hurt you._

_You’re not alone anymore. I’ll always be here._

She looked at his face, so serene in sleep, so innocent, and she struggled, her hands wanting to reach out to move the hair off his forehead, to smooth it across his face, feel the soft texture of his skin under her fingertips, to taste him, drink deeply and figure out how to be something other than two stupid people who nearly kill each other three or four times a week.

She yelped, jumping when his eyes opened, looking straight at her, the edges of his lips curling into a smile, his voice raspy from sleep, “Stop staring at me!”

She laughed nervously, and shivered, grabbing the covers to pull them up, feeling weird that she was waking up next to what appeared to be a naked man for the first time, acutely aware she was in the same condition.

He giggled, and her eyes shot over to him, because she’d never heard a noise come out of him that was so genuinely happy…but he did, he giggled, and he was smiling broadly, his arm moving from above his head, to drag her down to lay her head on his shoulder, and she was terrified.

Last night was one thing, foggy with desperation and needs, but now, they were awake, they could see clearly. Last night he was in what she supposed a positive mood because, well, obviously…things. But today? Who really knew who he was the morning after, she certainly had no idea.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he whispered, his other arm moving up so he could move the hair away from her face, trying to lean his head up to get a good look at her.

“Wh-what, what do you mean?” She tilted her head down, so he couldn’t see it, the fear, because he’d see it, if he caught her eyes, he’d see it.

“You are so tense—it’s like a damn corpse laying on me you’re so stiff,” he reached over to her chin, guiding his fingers underneath to slowly bring her head up so he could see her.

His eyes were pensive, his face not giving away what he was thinking when she finally met his gaze, and then he smiled, nodding his head, “I see.”

She had to wonder if he really did see or not, and then he eliminated any doubt when he leaned his head up, his hand moving around her neck to draw her to him, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, “There’s nothing to worry about, I’m glad you’re laying here next to me, ‘kay?”

She didn’t know she had been holding her breath, but she released the air in a shuddering sigh, as she nodded, his eyes softening, “Hey?”

She hummed, watching as his eyes softened, his expression so gentled, his hand gesturing down her body, “Are you okay?”

“I-I think I am?” She wasn’t sure, not having been able to complete a thorough inventory of her body before he’d come awake.

“There are things I can do for you, I will get the st—“

“Semi,” Aoi shifted to lean up, moving her hand to reach up and cover his mouth, shaking her head, his eyes wide , her voice firm when she spoke, “Fuck that.”

His eyebrows rose, “Don’t you dare look at me like I’m one of  _them_. Don’t you dare treat me like I’m one of  _them_! I’m not one of your clients, I am your fucking….fucking…” her mind went blank and she felt frustration running through her body, “fuck…what the fuck am I?”

He mumbled something under her hand and then he opened his mouth, softly biting the fleshy part of her hand, causing her to draw it back, squealing.

“I think you’re my gi—“

“Don’t say it, it’s too…fucking domestic. I don’t want to be your girlfriend, it’s the cheapest, stupidest term and I hate it.”

“Okay,” he drew the words out, confused by this being some big deal to her, “What do you want to be?”

“I have no idea.”

“I wasn’t going to call you my girlfriend, Aoi,” he whispered softly, tucking her hair behind her ear, “You’re my  _girl_.”

She blinked at him, the way he said it, it felt like it denoted something unique, and he didn’t say ‘girlfriend’ like most guys would, because he didn’t want to frame it that way—and the word sounded right to her, at least as far as she could define things, she did feel like she was ‘his girl’ and so she nodded, approving his choice of words as she lay her head down on his shoulder again.

“This feels weird,” she murmured, wondering if he felt the same way, and he nodded, laughing lightly, causing the bed to shake, his voice soft as he agreed, “It really does.”

“What the fuck are we doing?” he asked, still laughing.

“What normal couples do? Isn’t it?” she had to laugh then too, because it was absurd, it really was.

“I really  _did_ want to hug you though,” he whispered, his face serious again, “I-is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “It’s fine, but…are we cuddly people?”

He shrugged lightly, “I don’t know. I…I mean I have never really…just…fuck.”

“We don’t have to talk…” she whispered softly, her hand reaching up to lay on his cheek, her thumb softly stroking against the smooth surface, and she meant it, she could see the wheels turning in his head, the way he was working all of the information and she just wanted a little more time with him like this, keep him in this moment of peaceful serenity.

He stared at her, and she wasn’t sure what he was thinking, not sure what was going through his head, but she desperately wanted to know, needed to know, and then he spoke, his voice firm, “I don’t know. I don’t know what kind of people we are.”

She took a shuddering breath, glad that he wasn’t angry, “Me either.”

“Maybe…maybe we’re just people who have to figure it out…” his voice was so timid, so small, because even now, he was terrified of being rejected.

She murmured, leaning up to kiss him softly before speaking against his lips, “…figure it out, together?”

“You promise?” he asked, his voice so small, so childlike, and she wanted to cry, nodding her head.

“I promise with all that I got, Semi.”

And she meant that too.

___________________________________________________________

She’d stepped out of the shower, the ache in her abdomen faded under the hot water, and as she reached for the towel off the door she glanced at herself in the mirror on the door. She paused, water dripping off her skin onto the mat under feet, and she tried to see it.

Tried to see if there was something different about her now, something new—because she felt like there was and she’d wondered if it was something that could be seen—the understanding that she was now a little bit a part of him, and he was a little bit a part of her. She twisted, grimacing at the way the scars on her stomach stretched, trying to see if there were any changes and then smiled when she saw the tiny purple bruises on her hips, shifting to get a better look.

She wrapped her hand around her waist, and rest her own fingertips on the spots, smiling, “Ah, there you are.”

Contented that she’d found at least one tangible sign of what she’d experienced the night before was real, she quickly dried herself off, slipping on her robe and then realizing this was the first time she’d ever showered when Semi was home. She normally had the house to herself, but she could hear him doing something in the other room, and she didn’t bring her bag in there.

She looked at herself in the mirror again, making sure the robe was closed well, and then slowly peeked out the door, not seeing Semi in the area, figuring he must be in the bedroom or foyer she made a quick break for the wall behind the couch where her bag was.

She crouched down, grabbing out the underclothes, t-shirt and jeans she planned to put on and froze when she heard Semi walking out of the bedroom.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit._

She could tell he’d walked to the kitchen—normal kitchen noises happening and she shifted as quietly as she could to twist around, leaning to peek up over the edge of the couch.

Her eyes opened widely as she took in the vision in front of her. Semi was in the kitchen, cooking something on the stove, and he was completely butt naked like the day he was born and she felt her cheeks infuse with heat as she watched him swaying—to some unknown melody that she couldn’t hear.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She couldn’t stop the squeak from sounding when he spoke, standing up, grabbing her bag since she’d been caught already, and moving toward the bathroom again, “Nothing! I was getting my clothes, what the fuck are you doing?”

He twisted his torso to look at her, his eyes amused, “I have no idea what the  _fuck_ you mean?”

She furrowed her brows, pointing the toothbrush she’d retrieved at him, gesturing up and down, “That!?”

He turned, looking around himself and she was doing her best to not laugh because he was seriously confused, “What do you mean?”

“You’re not wearing clothes,” she pointed out, keeping a stern face.

He shook his head, turning back to the stove like whatever she’d just said was the dumbest thing that she’d ever said and didn’t even deserve a response.

“I’m not walking around the house naked just so you know,” she turned stepping into the bathroom, laying her clothes on the counter, and was fixing to turn to close the door, but suddenly he was there.

His body pressed up against her, his foot pushing the door closed as his hands grasped her hips, his lips on her neck, kissing her softly, as he turned her, his breath a whisper as she spoke, “Why not?”

His hands didn’t move, he didn’t move, just his lips, just his tongue, just his mouth, he just stayed there and she felt like this was a test, and he was grading her, and she wanted to pass, wanted to do what she was supposed to do. She cursed herself that she never paid any attention to all of those stupid domestic shows, because she could use a model of what was normal and not, but then suddenly it occurred to her, there was nothing normal about them, certainly not about her and ever more certainly, not Semi.

“I—I…it’s…no,” she couldn’t get her thoughts clear in her head because of what he was doing with his mouth, and the fact that he’d turned her to face the mirror and she could see him staring at her while he was doing those things to her skin.

His hands moved slowly, his eyes never leaving hers, as he pulled the belt loose, moving the flaps aside, and then he whispered in her ear, as his fingers moved in slow patterns on her skin, “Why does it matter?”

“I-I—what?” His hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs moving in slow circles.

“Why does it matter if I wear clothes now?”

“I—I mean…I just…it’s that the—“

“You saw me, I saw you, we fucked, I don’t need to hide from you, do I?”

She snapped her mouth shut, wondering at this question, “I—I guess not?”

“I’m not ashamed,” he spoke firmly, biting her shoulder lightly, “and you sure as fuck better not be ashamed either.”

“I—I’m not!”

“Good,” he smiled then, releasing her and then reaching forward to open the door, shuffling her forward to go out. She paused, watching him as he moved past her to the kitchen

“Go sit down, let’s eat,” he spoke over his shoulder at her, “I made us breakfast.”

She nodded, moving to the couch to sit down, making sure the robe was closed.

After a few minutes he came over, sitting on the couch opposite from her, sliding a plate across the coffee table to her, and she shook her head at him, “Why are you wearing pajama pants now?”

He glanced down at the blue cotton pants, shrugging, “I found out what I wanted to know.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” She held her arms out to make a show of the fact that she was in her robe and nothing else.

“It fucking means,” he grinned, raising his eyebrows at her, “I wanted to see how far the flush spreads on your body when you’re flustered,” 

“Wh-what!?”

“It goes to your belly button,” he mused, taking a bite of food off the plate he’d picked up, “I bet I can make it go  _further_.”

She couldn’t stop staring at him, this confidence foreign to her, strange and unusual, and then she realized, this is something he knew, something he was comfortable at—being sexy, taking care of women, pleasing them…and she worried, wondered—if he knew the difference between his feelings and just doing what he thought was part of ‘his job’ when it came to her.

“Oh my God!” she jerked forward on the seat, her eyes wide as she stared at his blank expression, “Semi! We didn’t use any protection!”

“What, you’re not the maternal type?” he was smiling and she wanted to punch him in the face, because he wasn’t the one who would have to go have an abortion, she was.

“I’m damn well NOT mother material, I don’t have any human instinct, let alone maternal ones! You fucking idiot! You were supposed to take care of that shit!”

“Wait, let me get this fucking straight,” he sat his plate down on the table, leaning forward, eyes narrowed, “It was my job to fuck you AND be sure that you didn’t get pregnant?”

“Shut the fuck up! You make it sound so….so…dirty when you say it like that!”

She stared at him, and she knew her face was exposing her, exposing what she was thinking, and it shouldn’t matter to her how he saw what they did last night, not all, but the idea that he just saw it as ‘fucking’ and not what she’d experienced made her insides hurt. She knew it was naive to imagine that he’d felt the same kind of connection she had, but still…it wasn’t just screwing each other. She knew that and she had to believe he knew it too even if he used such caustic words to describe it in the light of day.

“If it was just a fucking  _job_  to you, then how much do I owe you?” she felt the way the words flew across the room and slapped his face, she could tell the way he blinked rapidly, trying to process what she’d just said, and he lowered his head, his eyes fixed on her and she wanted it, to just beat the living hell out of him because how dare he refer to last night as a _job_.

“Shut the fuck up, Aoi,” he hissed, his eyes holding anger but another emotion she couldn’t be clear about in them, and part of her wanted his next words to be something that would give her the right to stab him again, “That’s not what I meant and you fucking know it, I was joking. It wasn’t a job. I wanted to do it, I’m glad we did, so fucking calm down.”

“It wasn’t funny,” she frowned, because it wasn’t, she was confused and feeling way to much like a girl for him to say stupid things right now, especially if he wasn’t going to let her beat the hell out of him for doing it.

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes and she wanted to smack him, “you’re just upset over the protection iss–” 

“Damn right I am!” she cut him off, standing up, pacing across the room, “I can’t believe we didn’t think about this!” She counted on her fingers, trying to think of when her last period was, and he started laughing, picking his food back up, and taking a bite, still shaking his head.

“What the fuck are you so happy about!? I swear to God I’m going to castrate you if you got me pregnant.”

“Will you calm the fuck down, fucking hell, you are so dramatic about everything,” he rolled his eyes, pointing to the seat across from him, “Seriously, Aoi, sit the fuck down right now!”

She moved over to the couch, glaring at him, “Don’t fucking tell me what to do!”

“Sit the fuck down,” His eyes were narrowed, his voice a hiss, “Now!” and she could see it, she could see that she could push him just a little bit further and they’d be tearing the house down around them again.

_It’s so tempting._

She plopped down on the couch, arms crossed, “I’m sitting down because I fucking want to, not because you told me to, you fucking prick.”

“Whatever,” he hissed, shaking his head, her mind whirling in a million directions, and he stared at her, swallowing hard, and then took a deep breath, his voice soft, “Aoi, I can’t have kids.”

That shook her out of her mind, staring at him, “What?!”

“My owners, they had me fixed, like a fucking dog,” he shrugged, downplaying it, “They did that to all of us boys so we wouldn’t get the women pregnant on accident.”

“Wh…they did…how old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“Holy fuck!” She hated them, she didn’t know them but she was so fucking glad they were dead—because if they weren’t, she would see to it that they suffered a slow and painful death for the things they’d subjected Semi to.

She leaned forward, trying to process this information, and for some reason feeling a seed of loss inside, the possibilities that, granted were too horrific to actually consider, but possibilities none the less that had existed were instantly gone.

They’d be horrible parents, the worst, no child would survive with them, but still.

_Still…._

“You’re…wait, are you fucking sad?” he asked, leaning up on his knees, “Please tell me you aren’t sad!”

“I—I’m not….sad…I just…I’m processing, so eat your damn food and leave me be!”

“Do you have any idea what kind of demon spawn you and I would create!?”

“I fucking know, Semi, fuck! I know okay, just…it has nothing to do with that, just…seriously, shut the fuck up!”

He studied her for a moment longer, and then resumed eating again, shaking his head.

She didn’t know how much time passed, but she jumped when he asked her if she was going to eat, his eyes narrowing in assessment of whatever she was thinking, and she picked up the plate, her mouth watering when she saw the scrambled eggs and buttered toast, despite her stomach still rolling from all of the anxiety squeezing at her lungs, “I didn’t know you could cook?”

“Just a few things,” he shrugged, taking another bite.

“I’ll cook for dinner,” she suggested, and then laughed because they sounded so stupid. So fucking normal it made her want to throw up the food she’d just eaten, because what in the hell were they doing?

“Sounds good,” he murmured, and she took the time to study him while she ate, and she knew he knew she was doing so, but he didn’t stop her, didn’t make any snide comments, and when he’d finished eating, he sat the plate down on the table, putting his feet up on the surface beside it, leaning his head back, crossing his arms on his abdomen, and closed his eyes.

“I’m tired,” he murmured, and she nodded, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else, “Someone kept me up all night,” he leaned his head up, opening his eyes and winking at her, stretching and then yawning, “I think I’ll take a nap.”

She watched as he stood up, taking his plate to the sink and then shuffled to the bedroom door, out of her line of sight. She leaned forward to set her plate on the table and when she sat back up his face was next to her, causing her to yelp, his laughter loud in her ear, “You coming?”

She thought he wouldn’t invite her back into his room, not for something other than sex, and she didn’t want to be as excited and happy as she was at an invitation to take a fucking nap, but apparently, he’d turner her into some weird version of herself that she barely recognized in a single night.

_Fucking fuck._

She stood at the doorway, she could barely see anything in the room, as he kept the windows fully covered, and then she turned away, going into the bathroom. She quickly threw on her clothes, putting her hair up into a sloppy ponytail, slipping her sandals on, and then rushed out the door, heading to the foyer.

She heard him call her name, but she just kept going, and she could hear his feet hit the floor, coming after her, but she flew through the door, slamming it and hurrying down the steps.

_She ran._

_She kept running._


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: This Is Who I Am. Scene 3: Home  
> Pairing/Relationship: Semi/OC  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Warnings: Please see details below  
> Genre: Angst, Criminal, DARK DARK DARK!  
> Type: Chapter Story 
> 
> Please note: if you haven’t read the other chapters, you need to! This is Scene 3.
> 
> Special Warnings:  
> This chapter contains violence, blood, explicit language, self-harm, cutting, death, implied child slavery, implied sexual exploitation/slavery.
> 
> Please be advised there may be other triggers I have not thought to list. Please read with caution if you are likely to be triggered. If you’re uncertain, see the complete original list { HERE }
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my precious sister Mari-chan ( @maribikutoria ) for those gorgeous works of art she created on behalf of these two characters I love so much! Thank you for your love, support, and especially for you’re precious spirit that always touches me no matter how far away I go! I love you!

 

Semi crashed out the front door, having run like a maniac through the house to get his shoes on to chase after Aoi. He was breathless as he looked up and down the street, desperately trying to spot her.

“Fuck!” he bent over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, glaring at a man who walked by him with a scowl on his face.

He noticed movement out of the corner of his eye, his head snapping to the side to see the young boy who’d been hanging around his neighborhood far too much lately for his comfort, his eyes narrowing, the boy freezing when Semi’s voice filled the air.

“Not so fast, Kousuke, why are you here?” Semi pushed off his knees, spinning around to grasp the young boy’s hood as he tried to rush away from him, grabbing him and then pushing him up against the wall before he could scramble away.

“What are you doing here?” Semi leaned close to the boy, studying his expression, watching his eyes for any lies.

“Nothing,” the boy swallowed hard, his eyes shifting past Semi’s shoulders, “I was on my way home.”

“Don’t lie to me, this isn’t your home,” Semi snapped, reaching up to grab the boy’s chin in his fingers, forcing him to look at him, “Tell me the truth.”

“I-I…” Semi growled when the boy’s lip quivered, and he released him with a huff.

“I don’t know who’s name you’re under here, but you need to go home, Kousuke,” Semi shifted, leaning his back against the wall beside where the boy stood trembling, “You don’t belong here.”

“I can never go back,” Kousuke whispered softly, “They said…they told me…”

Semi huffed, his hand reaching over to slap against the boy’s chest, “I don’t care what they said, I’ll take care of that, who’s waiting for you at home?”

“My s-sister,” the boy spoke the words with reverence and it made Semi’s blood boil, “..and my…my Mom, too.”

“How long have you been  _away_?” He said the word away like it hurt him to say it because it was a polite, too polite, way of saying ‘stolen’, or ‘captured’, or ‘enslaved’.

“Three years,” the boy closed his eyes, voice shaking as his head hitting the bricks behind him.

Semi’s head jerked to the side, eyes wide, because he couldn’t believe this kid had been on these street for three years, “How old were you!?”

He didn’t mean for the words to sound the way they did, and the boy shrugged, glancing over at him, “Eleven.”

“Fuck.”

Kousuke laughed lightly, shrugging, “I do it to protect my Mom and sister.”

Semi pushed off the wall, stepping in front of him, looking down the street, “Listen, I can imagine the bullshit that those bastards said to you, but you don’t have to worry—I’ll take care of it for you. You need to go home; your Mom is worried about you.”

“I can’t tell you.”

Semi’s eyes cut to the side to stare at Kousuke, “Listen, you are going to tell me, and you can trust that you won’t need to be afraid—I said I’ll take care of it, and I will, you need to go home, Kousuke.”

The boy studied Semi, finding that Semi didn’t blink, didn’t project anything other than assurance toward him, and Kousuke’s eyes widened, his voice awed, “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

Semi could tell Kousuke was trying to decide if Semi would or possibly could do what he was promising, and then he could see the moment he had accepted that he was being given the gift of freedom—perhaps the one and only time it would ever happen.

“Akida,” Kousuke whispered, his eyes darting frantically around, like he was terrified someone was there ready to grab him for daring to speak the man’s name.

“Who is over him?” Semi asked quickly, eyes intent for any lie in Kousuke.

“I don’t know, they were all very careful to never reveal the names,” Kousuke admitted, looking down, wishing he could give Semi more to go on, “I know that the person was part of the inner circle…or something…umm…”

Semi tried to be patient, tried to give him a moment to think, and was relieved when his eyes widened, his voice excited, “They talked about the Burrow. Does that help? Is that helpful.”

Semi frowned, looking down, and then schooled his face, “Yes, it is very helpful, thank you, Kousuke, you need to go now, go home.”

He nodded his head, “Thanks, Semi, really…Thank you.”

“Shut up!” Semi barked, shaking his head, “Get out of here, go straight home to your family.”

“Okay, okay, I’m going,” Kousuke smiled, turning to walk down the sidewalk, stopping when Semi called out, “Kousuke?”

He glanced back to him, tilting his head when Semi spoke softly, “Did you see a girl come out on the street from my building just a bit before I did?”

“Who? Aoi?” Kousuke turned all the way around to look at Semi, “Yah, she came running out.”

“Did you see where she went?”

“Yep!” Kousuke turned and pointed to the building across the street, “She went in that building over there.”

Semi’s eyes shifted from him to the building in disbelief, “Where? There?”

“She sure did!”

“What do you mean–are you sure?!” Semi couldn’t imagine her going into that building…why would she? What would she do there?

“She lives there.”

Semi felt like the whole earth shifted for a moment and he wished he had something to latch onto to keep him steady, “What?”

“She lives there,” Kousuke repeated, shrugging, “I’ve known Aoi since I came to this city. She’s taken care of me now and again.”

Semi could tell that Kousuke was reluctant to admit such a thing, having pride and not wanting to seem weak but apparently willing to speak freely since he wasn’t staying.

“Thank you,” Semi’s words were clipped, irritation crawling up his spine, “I don’t want to see you here again.”

Kousuke nodded, “Thanks again, Semi!”

Semi didn’t look at him, just waved his hand and turned to study the building where Aoi had gone.

_I knew you, Semi._

_I saw you sometimes._

_Somehow belonged to you from the first time I saw you in your stupid bunny hoodie six years ago_

Her words flew through his mind, and suddenly so much made sense. Of course, she lived there, of course Iwanishi had put her up in a house directly across the street—because he wouldn’t be satisfied not being able to keep up with her, keep her safe, check on her.

He stared at the building, not in any better condition than the one he lives in, and he wondered at her being so close to him for all of these years and him not knowing—somehow, it seemed impossible, but he knew that it was true now.

He stood there for a long time confused as to what to do, and decided the best thing he could do is to take care of the Kousuke issue because he was way too irritated over that situation to be collected enough to deal with Aoi and whatever made her bolt away from him.

He turned walking down the street, heading to the bar Akida owned. He stood still, blinking for a moment once he’d entered, as the space was very dark, and there weren’t many lights on since they weren’t yet open, but Semi didn’t particularly care about whether he was welcome or not.

Once his eyes had adjusted he moved into the room, not seeing anyone behind the counter or in the main room at all, heading to the office. He pushed the door open seeing Akida sitting in his chair behind the desk with some young girl straddling him.

Akida shifted to peer around the girl, his eyes narrowing, “What the fuck Semi! I’m busy here.”

Semi leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms, staring down the man, his voice flat, “You’re not.”

The man scoffed, “The fuck, I am, get out.”

Semi laughed lightly, stretching as he walked over to the desk, the girl turning to look at him curiously. He wanted to curse, wanted to scream, because she was so young, he shifted forward quickly, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back so he could see her face, “How old are you?”

“Twenty,” she answered defiantly, jerking her head as if to loosen his grip.

Semi rolled his eyes, pulling her hair harder, leaning his face closer to her, “How old are you?”

“Don’t say anything, Rumi,” Akida hissed, slapping Semi’s hand out of her hair.

“Fourteen,” the girl answered softly.

Semi’s fists were tight by his sides, his voice a hiss through clenched teeth, “Get out.”

“You can’t tell her what to do, who the fuck do you think you are—"

Akida’s voice was cut off midsentence when Semi had his blade pressed into his neck before he could breathe the next word, his words meant to be absolute, “Rumi, get out, go home!”

She shifted, stumbling back off the man’s legs, wide eyed, fixing her skirt, and looking at Akida as if she were waiting for permission to leave.

“GO!” Semi screamed, rolling his eyes, “Seriously, go! He doesn’t fucking own you! Go home!”

She didn’t move, and all Semi could wonder is what exactly they’d done to this girl to cause her to be so loyal, to be so afraid, and he wanted to scream, because that could have been Aoi.

He jerked his head to look at Akida, his voice loud and laced with anger, “Tell her! Tell her she doesn’t need your permission!” Semi leaned down, his nose pressing into the man’s cheek as he spoke.

“Y-you don’t n-need m-my permi-mis-sion.”

“There,” Semi turned to look back at her, “You heard him, now get the fuck out, he’ll never survive wetting himself in front of you.”

Semi waited until he heard the door close then he lifted his head, using his foot to turn the chair around so he could look at Akida.

When the man’s hand shifted, he raised an eyebrow, “Oh, so you want to die already then?”

Akida’s eyes widened impossibly further, his expression filled with shock as he shook his head, placing his hands in his lap.

“I want to know who oversees the ring on the inner circle of the Burrow, and you’re going to tell me,” Semi spun the blade between his fingers absently, his eyes watching the light glint off the shiny blade.

“I can’t tell you anything, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man responded with a typical planned response.

Semi reached down, grabbing Akida’s hand and then instantly cut the tip of his finger off, the man screaming, grabbing his hand and holding it, completely hysterical.

“I need a name, now.”

Akida had tears streaming down his face, shaking his head, “I ca-can’t tell y-you, they-they’ll kill me!”

“I’m here now, and I’ll  _definitely_  kill you if you don’t tell me…at least you’ll live a few hours longer this way.”

Semi leaned forward, his face so close he could smell the man’s putrid breath as he sobbed, screaming, causing the man to jump, “The name!”

“I—I can-can’t, Semi!”

Akida screamed when the knife stuck into his leg, and then Semi pulled it back out, holding the bloody blade up to the man’s cheek, “I’m going to ask  _one more time_ , I want the fucking name, now!”

“Sasaki,” the man groaned, the feeling that he’d just signed his own death certificate clear on his face, “Now, okay, I told you, just please don’t hurt me…I’ll get out of here, okay I’ll go. I’ll quit and go into hiding, just don’t hurt me!”

Semi’s eyes were looking at him, but at the same time they were empty, his mind going over all the ways he could get access to Sasaki and her crew, already planning his dance of death.

“S-Semi,” Akida whimpered, “I told you, can…can I go now?”

“How many of the kids did you service?”

_Service._

_Like it’s some opportunity they offer these vulnerable kids._

_I hate them all, the monsters._

Akida’s voice was shaking, “W-what?”

“You know what the fuck I want to know!” Semi shook out his shoulders, struggling with the noise that was growing louder in his ear, “Rumi was just one, what about Kousuke—did you have your way with him, too?”

The man swallowed hard, tears still streaming down his face, “Why d-do you wa-want to k-know?”

Semi smiled, but it seemed to Akida to be the most threatening thing he’d done since he walked in the room, his voice sharp, “Humor me.”

“T-they gave me s-six to break.”

Semi saw red, the room was red, everything was red, because this man had been in charge of four other kids besides Kousuke and Rumi.

Instantly, he reached forward, grabbing the man’s hair, pulling his head straight up and the knife swooped outward, slicing straight across his throat as he tried to scream. The gurgling drowning sound, satisfying to Semi, as he threw the man’s body away from him in disgust, kicking the chair with his foot so that it fell backward with a crash.

“Fucking monster!” Semi screamed, kicking the chair in anger, and then reaching over to wipe his knife blade on the man’s pant leg.

Semi walked out into the street, blinking at the bright sunlight, trying to decide what he should do now…go find Aoi, or go take care of Sasaki and her enforcers.

He stared for a long time at the blinking sign in the window across the street, trying to make a choice, and then he turned, heading toward home, decision made, intent on making his way to the building that Kousuke said Aoi had gone into. Someone there would know something. Someone there would know where she was.

He’d tear the building down from top to bottom if he had to, but he was finding Aoi and he was damn well bringing her home.

_Home._

He blinked at the thought that somehow, he saw what he had as ‘home’ and not strictly the four walls that he slept in—rather, he knew it was because of her. She made it home.

_She is home._

Not the stuff, not the place, not the location, no—not even the connection he felt for Iwanishi when he was there—no, that just made him feel secure. This feeling about her, it was different than that. Both simple and complex, wrapped up in a layer of wonder and fear that he’d never experienced before. Both of them so different than others, so jaded, and so utterly and completely fucked up.

_Beautifully broken._

_Shut the fuck up, you stupid ass, go get her and stop trying to make sense of everything._

_It doesn’t make sense._

_Damn, just feel for once in your whole life._

_Fine, but I am holding you accountable for this bullshit._

_You’re such an alarmist. Go get the fucking girl._

_Don’t tell me what to fucking do._

He shook his head, the noise growing louder, and quickly crossed the street, jerking the door open and stepping inside the building. The entry way held four doors and a stairwell. He went to the first door, knocking quickly, listening intently to see if anyone was going to answer. When he was met with silence he moved to the next door only to have the same empty silence greet him.

His heart clenched in his chest when he heard movement at the third door, his arm reaching out to hold himself steady, as it felt like he might fall thanks to his wobbling knees. He cursed himself for giving her so much control, so much power over him. He shoved back off the wall, intent on leaving because this was too much, he was too weak.

_She makes you weak._

_Shut the fuck up._

_She’s gonna get you killed._

_She makes me stronger._

_Who told you that?_

_Myself. I know it’s the truth._

_You’re lying to yourself._

_Yes…because you are still talking._

_…_

_Exactly._

The door swung open before Semi could collect his thoughts and leave, his eyes raising to find a man standing there, looking like he hadn’t bathed in months, and clearly having too much to drink this morning, swaying like he was standing on the deck of a ship.

“What!?” The man screeched, and Semi wanted to throat punch the guy for even being alive because this piece of trash hardly deserved to even breath the same air as Aoi. He knew this kind of guy.

_Be nice. You need information. This is Aoi’s neighbor. She may know him._

_I hate being fucking nice._

_Be nice._

Semi cleared his throat, his fists clenching at his side, and something about the change in posture caused the man to shuffle back a bit, like he was staring down a coiled cobra.

“Do you know if there’s a girl who lives here,” he gestured his hand to his chest, “about this tall, she has a—”

“There’s only one girl who lives here,” the guy interrupted him, his voice rough and curt, “…cute little tart, that one,” the man slurred, starting to close the door, but Semi stepped forward to stop him, his hand slamming into the door causing the man to startle.

_Don’t kill this guy. This is Aio’s neighbor. She may like him. Don’t kill her neighbor._

_He fucking called her a ‘tart’—I’m going to cut his fucking tongue out._

_Aoi might like him, it’s her neighbor. Don’t kill her neighbor._

“Where is she?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Fuck you!” the guy kicked his foot forward trying to knock Semi off balance, and then he was laid out flat on his back from the forward punch Semi had landed straight to his nose.

The guy was screaming, and Semi rolled his shoulders in frustration, hissing, “Damn it.”

He moved into the room, leaning over the guy, “I’m  _trying to be nice_! Just fucking tell me so I don’t have to kill you.”

The guy muttered something, his hands over his face distorting the words, Semi leaned down, grabbing the guy’s shirt, pulling him up, prepared to punch him again, when the guy screeched, “Upstairs!”

“What number?”

The guy whispered, “Seven.”

“Clean yourself up, you’re disgusting,” Semi barked, dropping the guy and starting to walk out of the apartment.

He’d almost made it out the door, but the noise was so loud in his ear, growing louder still, and he shook his head. Turning, he was back beside the man in a blink, his foot flying out, slamming into the guy’s side, then he leaned over, jerking him upward by his shirt, the man screaming in protest.

Semi’s fist shot out, punching him three times in quick succession, his voice a laced with malice as he held the man’s face up to his own, “Don’t you ever call that girl a ‘tart’ again, or I  _will_ kill you. Don’t you even look at her like that, don’t you even think of her like that, do you fucking hear me? Do you understand?”

The man was shaking, nodding his head rapidly, and Semi had to resist the urge to kill him, feeling the emotional connection to the blade in his pocket, his hand reaching in and wrapping around the knife, able to take a deep breath the moment his fingers touched it.

_Don’t kill her neighbor._

He frowned, tossing the guy on the ground, storming out of the room into the foyer.

_Are you fucking happy? I didn’t kill her fucking neighbor!_

His inner voice scoffed. Actually, scoffed at him.

_Yes, yes, you showed such unbelievable restraint._

_Shut up._

_I mean, really, I think you broke that man’s nose._

_Shut the hell up!_

_You’re a damned saint. I’m going to send in the recommendation to nominate you for fucking sainthood._

_Shut the fuck up._

_I’m just saying, you let the guy live, but beat the hell out of him—I’m not sure you should be so proud of yourself._

_I swear to God I am gonna–_

Having taken the steps two at a time, everything went silent, apart from a low hum in his ear, when he realized he was standing in front of apartment number seven.  He leaned his head close to the door, hearing the soft sounds of classical music playing from within.

_She’s there._

He didn’t like the feeling that was running through him, concern and trepidation combining to create a strong feeling of unease that was foreign to him. He reached his hand up, knocking on the door three times with his knuckles. Leaning forward to see if he could hear her moving, but still only hearing the classical music. He rapped on the door again, harder, louder, and then pressed his ear firmly against the door, frowning as he realized he didn’t hear anything from within.

_She could be out?_

_Or dead._

“Aoi?” he called out, reaching down to twist the doorknob, finding it locked, unsurprisingly.

_She could be sleeping?_

_Or dead._

_She might not be here…_

_Or she’s dead._

_DAMN IT._

He meant to be logical and use good sense about this, of course he did, but the noise in his ear had flared up so quickly, becoming so intense he had to reach up and cover his ear, jerking his head to the side, and then he bolted backward, and kicked forward at the door with all his might, the cracking noise loud as the thin wood gave way. He kicked it again, and splinters of wood flew out, a hole formed where his foot broke through.

He reached through, unlocking the door, opening it, glad to know there were not any other locks and at the same time completely pissed there weren’t more locks.

_How has she survived this long?_

The door crashed against the wall when he threw it open, stepping into the room, the music playing softly. His breath caught in his throat when he realized she was in the room, sitting in a big fluffy recliner chair facing away from him. She was so still it was strange, and he didn’t know what was happening because he could only see her head and shoulder and part of her arm.

“Aoi?”

She didn’t answer, her body seemed motionless, and he walked cautiously over to the chair, his eyes widening, feeling the air rush out of his chest, when he saw that she had her leg bent, foot on the seat of the chair, slowly drawing a blade across the surface of her thigh, so slowly, so carefully, it seemed impossible for someone to move so slowly, as at first appearances it seemed like she wasn’t moving at all—but then he watched the tiny bubbles of blood grow on the thin straight line, a stark contrast to her pale skin.

She was curled up into herself, looking so small in the huge chair, as if she were protecting herself, wearing a pair of what he thought might be his own boxers, because he honestly didn’t imagine she would have a pair of boxers with flamingos laying around her house, and they were at least three sizes too big, rolled up at the waist.

_You wouldn’t actually know what kind of underwear she wears since you literally ripped them off of her yesterday without looking at them, you fucking idiot._

_Noted. Now shut the fuck up._

His eyes grazed over the rest of her, finding she was wearing a gray cropped tank top, her hair was pulled up into a sloppy, messy bun on top of her head, and he blinked, looking up to see her face, to try to get a read on what she was doing, what she was thinking, why she was so silent.

Her face was blank, yet, she was crying, not with some great show of emotion, not at all, rather, there was a slow and steady stream of tears running down her face.  

_What is happening…what is going on…what do I do?_

_It’s probably your fault._

_How could it be my fault._

_You’re not stupid Semi, think._

He shook his head, trying to stop the voice, needing to see, needing to understand, and then he realized that her other leg was covered with blood, line after line having been systematically placed on her skin, and then when she’d run out of room there, she’d started on her other leg. She’d made it about half-way down that leg, and he shuddered wondering what she intended when she reached the end of it.

_“Aoi.”_

His stomach dropped out when his mind took him back to a conversation they’d had a few weeks ago. His heart thundering in his chest.

_“The marks, on your legs…”_

“Aoi, what are you doing?” his voice was soft, and he wasn’t accusing her, wasn’t disappointed in her or some other stupid nonsense, rather he just needed to know what she was doing, and why. He’d never been one to harm himself, and he wasn’t sure that he could understand the mentality behind it—but he certainly was in no position to pretend to know how to handle things. He couldn’t handle his own stuff, he surely wasn’t intending to tell her how she should handle hers.

_“How old are these?”_

He shifted, to try to get in front of her, but her eyes were empty, they were blank, and he shuddered. This is what she was like when he found her in the floor of their house on the glass. The same emptiness. The same blank, vacant human—alive but unaware. Her eyes fixed with great intent on her leg and he wasn’t sure what the best thing to do was.

_“Three weeks.”_

His eyes were fixated on the blade moving slowly, and every fraction of an inch, every single millimeter that she moved that blade—every single drop of blood that drew out onto the surface of her beautiful skin, caused his entire body to cringe, fingers forming tight fists as his eyes were fixated on her movement.  To him, it felt as if somehow, he could feel it himself, like she was cutting his own skin, his own soul—the very heart of him.

_“Why did you do them?”_

_Oh, God, please…please, please, please, no…please, no…no…it can’t be…_

He dropped to his knees in front of her, “Aoi, I’m here, what happened? Why are you doing this?”

His heart was pounding in his chest, his hands reaching forward to steady himself as it felt like the room was spinning when the answer to the question he’d asked flooded his mind despite him desperately trying to stop it.

_“A guy I was targeting…he just…he was too close. It made me feel…disgusting.”_

_Please, did I do this?_

_Of course, you did this! This is exactly what you do to people._

_What?_

_Destroy them._

_NO…I love her._

_Your love is destruction. Your love looks like death._

_Stop saying that. Stop it._

_I’m telling the truth._

_No. I can’t believe that it would be…you’re lying._

_It is the truth. It’s what you do._

_You know what? No. I know the truth._

_We’re completely fucked, but we’re together._

_She’s my girl._

_There has to be another explanation, another reason, it can’t be because of me…it just can’t be…_

His internal debate came to an abrupt stop when he glanced over, his eyes landing on the table next to her, seeing a bottle of pills sitting there, hastily scrambling over to grab them, reading the label to find that they were anti-anxiety pills. He glanced back at her and then the table to see several pills spilled there, and a bottle of liquor next to it.

“Aoi, how many of these did you take?” He was trying to not panic. He was doing his best to not let the voice and the sound and the fear and the worry to overwhelm him, but he couldn’t help that his hands were shaking when he picked the bottle of pills up.

He leaned over, holding the pill bottle up in front of her, but she didn’t see it, he could tell she didn’t, and he grabbed his phone out of his pocket, opening his browser and typing in the name of the drug, searching for information on overdosing.

“Okay, okay,” he murmured, reading through the info, doing the math and realizing she’d have to take at least twelve of the pills to do any real harm, he spilled the pills out onto the floor, counting them, then counting the ones on the table.

His stomach clenched when he realized there were twenty-three missing.

_Maybe she has taken them before today._

_Or maybe she took them all?_

“Aoi!” he reached over grabbing the blade out of her fingers, “How many of these pil—”

He didn’t even see it, she moved so fast, launching herself off the chair at him, throwing him backward, gasping as the breath was knocked out of him, her hand reaching for the blade still in his hand, and he had to stop himself from responding in kind when her fist shot out and punched him square across the cheek.

Her eyes were open, but there was no life in them, there was no real fight in them—making this seem to him as if were just animal instinct. Her hands clawing at his arm, trying to get the blade from him, wrenching his arm out of her grasp, throwing the razor blade across the room, her eyes following it, her fist flew out, punching him again before she scrambled off him to chase it.

He grabbed her ankle, managing to stand up as she screamed, clawing at the carpet, trying to get the blade back, but he pulled her the short distance to her kitchenette, holding her feet firmly in one hand while he dug through her cabinets, frustrated when he couldn’t find the item he was looking for, “You have to have salt! Damn it! Who doesn’t have fucking salt in their house!?”

Aoi managed to get one foot loose, shifting her body and then kicking her heel straight into his groin, causing him to drop her other foot, doubling over, groaning, his eyes narrowed as he watched her tear across the living room. He wasn’t sure what her intentions were, but she wasn’t heading toward the razor blade anymore, rather, she was heading toward the door.

“Oh, fuck no you are not!” he yelled as he darted across the living room, his arms grabbing her around the waist and yanking her back into him, her arms and legs frantic and wild in motion.

She screamed, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, her elbow hitting him in the stomach as she writhed in his arms.

“How many of those damn pills did you take, Aoi?” he hissed in her ear, his hand reaching up to grab her throat, her body stilling when she felt the pressure he was putting on it.

“Fucking answer me!”

He was met with silence and he realized that she wasn’t going to do anything he wanted her to do. He also knew this wasn’t really Aoi. Not really—and that made his decision a little bit easier.

“Fuck!” He looked around the room desperately, seeing the doorway to the bathroom, and began dragging her backward toward it.

She was violence personified, trying to get away, her entire body in a state of motion as she cried out, her fingernails digging into his arms as she drew long, heavy scratches down his skin. He didn’t even notice, so intent was he on what he was trying to do. He got her to the doorway, but she grabbed onto the frame, holding tightly, and he was getting more pissed by the second.

“Fucking hell,” he barked at her, “I’m trying to help you!”

“Fuck you!” she screamed, but it sounded like someone else’s voice.

He hadn’t used his real strength on her yet, not wanting to hurt her, and he knew that had she not been drugged, or drunk, or mental or whatever was happening here, it would be a challenging fight but in her current state, she was no match, his arms flew up, jerking her wrists down, causing her to lose her grip on the doorframe as he drug her backward.

He turned her, knocking items off the counter in the small space, the sound of glass shattering on the tiled floor, her feet flying every direction as he jerked the shower curtain back, her hand grabbing it and tearing it down as she screamed. He shoved her feet up against the tub’s edge, her knees banging into it as he forced her body to bend over, one of his arms pressing upward around her waist, the other hand reaching behind her neck to push her head down, “How many pills did you take, Aoi?”

She groaned, her body still struggling, but not as violently. He jerked the arm across her stomach up, causing her to grunt, hissing in her ear, the other arm grabbing her hair, jerking her head up, “How many!?”

She  _laughed_.

Not a normal laugh, no, it was something else, it was something other, and it sent chills up his spine.

“Damn it!” he moved so fast she didn’t have time to protest, one hand grabbing her neck, holding her still, her hands shooting up to grab at his fingers trying to pry them loose, her mouth flowing with a litany of curses, and before she could take another breath, his fingers shot into her mouth, her body buckling over, her elbows flying backward to try to stop him, but he bent her over, pressing her downward as his arm wrapped around her waist, stopping her from fleeing, and he felt her entire abdomen flex.

She’d just started to bite his fingers, which made him curse violently, but before she could break the skin, she gagged, her mouth opening on reflex. He jerked his fingers out of her mouth, his hand going to the back of her head to keep her bent over when she wretched, her entire body convulsing as she threw up.

He held her tightly, as her body continued to respond, since it appeared that once she’d begun her body realized something was terribly wrong and continued to expel the contents of her stomach. For his own part, Semi leaned around to see what she’d thrown up, glad to see that the pills were still somewhat whole which meant that she hadn’t taken them very long ago.

He watched as she continued to throw up, unhappy when the final contents appeared to be pills that were not quite formed, a frothy white mess on the floor of the tub—but one thing was clear to him, she hadn’t taken the pills all at once. She’d taken them over the course of some time.

Once she stopped heaving, her body felt heavy, as if she were relying on Semi to hold her up, his voice laced with fear, “Aoi?”

She slumped down onto his arm, and her hands drew up to her face, and then she sobbed, a deep, mournful wail coming from somewhere within her tiny body, and his heart broke, he felt the sound run through his entire body. He immediately leaned down, drawing his arm under her legs as he picked her up, carrying her out of the bathroom, aware that there was only one other room in her home, he headed there—kicking the door open, and shuffling into the completely dark room.

He kicked things as he crossed the room, trying to shuffle his feet, uncertain what might be there, unsure of what he was stepping on, but not particularly caring at this point, as she was his primary priority. He made his way across the room to where he could make out the form of a bed, carefully laying her down on the fluffy bedding, frowning when she curled up into a small ball, her body shaking with the tears that were falling, tiny whimpering sounds coming from her form.

His hands flew up into his hair, the voice, the noise feeling like they were nearly overwhelming as they screamed at him, accused him, told him horrible things—and he felt himself shaking, not knowing what he was supposed to do, not knowing how to help her.

_I need to think._

_Yes, about what you did._

_NO. I need to think. Shut up._

He knew…he knew there was a chance that she could still have enough of the pills in her system to hurt her. He knew maybe he should do something, but he didn’t know who to call, who would help them, because they were in the business of eliminating people, not making friends.

Hospitals were bound by law—he couldn’t take the chance on them taking her away from him. As he thought, he realized there was no one.

No one he could trust.

No one he would trust  _with her_.

He took a deep shuddering breath as the realization washed over him.

_We’re alone._

_You’ve always been alone._

_I’m not alone now. Not anymore._

_Are you sure?_

_Yes, now it’s just me and her._

_It really is just you and her._

_Yes._

_She’s yours._

_Yes, and I’m hers._

Without another thought, he crawled into the bed, curling his body around her, shifting an arm under her as he drew her back against him, his entire being wanting to protect her. He moved her hair, laying his cheek on the top of her head—then wrapping his arm around her arms, holding her.

“I’m here,” he whispered, wishing he had the right words, the way he read in stories or saw on television, he wanted to tell her what she needed to hear, what she wanted to hear, “You’re okay, Aoi.”

He gulped, the words feeling like they were clawing their way out of his mouth, having committed them to his memory nearly instantly the night before when she’d spoken them to him, “No one is ever going to hurt you again.”

“I’ll never use you, no one will ever be able to use you again.”

He kissed her head softly, tightening his grip around her, “You’re safe here, I’m here and I’m not going to let someone hurt you.”

His eyes widened when she shifted, her body twisting and rolling so that she was facing him, her voice soft on his skin, his name a sigh on her lips as she pressed her face into his chest, curling up into his embrace, his words soft and gentled as he kissed her forehead, “You’re not alone anymore, Aoi.”

“I’ll always be here.”


	4. Here With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Special Warnings:  
> This chapter contains violence, explicit language, mentions of death, and other dark themes.
> 
> Please be advised there may be other triggers I have not thought to list. Please read with caution if you are likely to be triggered.

 

Song Inspiration: Heaven Help Me by Raign

 

* * *

 

Semi didn’t know what time it was, although it didn’t matter, all he knew was that he’d been sitting in that same chair for so long he didn’t remember a time he wasn’t just sitting there staring at her seemingly lifeless form. More than once he’d went to her, checking her breathing, making sure she was still alive…the conversations frantic in his mind about whether he should take her to the emergency room or not—whether he should call some of his associates, take a chance with one of them or not…but every time, he knew…in his heart, he knew he’d lose her. 

They’d find out who she was, the things she’d done, they’d figure out something, anything, and then she’d be gone.

_I can’t lose her._

_You already lost her, she left you._

_I can’t lose her._

_You did._

_She left._

_She left because of you, because of who you are._

_I’m saving her, I am going to save her._

_It doesn’t look like it to me._

__You made her like this._ _

__It’s your fault._ _  
_ _

__She could die and if she does it’s your fault._ _  
_ _

__No, I’m saving her._ _  
_ _

__I don’t want to lose her._ _  
_ _

__You don’t save things._ _  
_ _

__You’ve never saved things._ _  
_ _

__That’s not who you are._ _

He didn’t have a real reason, not actually, to be so afraid, just an underlying terror that somehow someone somewhere was going to take her from him. 

_You’re already too controlled._

_You’ve already given her too much power._

_Shut the hell up–I haven’t done that._

_You’re not afraid of anything._

_I’m not._

_Except you’re afraid of losing her._

_…_

_You said it yourself._

_That doesn’t have to be a weakness._

_It is the worst weakness._

He shook his head, there was a time he couldn’t imagine caring about anyone at all in any way that would cause him to feel anything other than apathy for their well being or whereabouts…and now here was Aoi…she’d somehow broken through all of his walls, all of the barriers, years in the making, how, when, or why he simply didn’t understand–but she didn’t just break through them all. 

She obliterated them completely. 

He had to admit it, to himself, to the voices–that he did care…that he was afraid. 

It wasn’t lost on him how much of a bad idea it was to have that kind of attachment. After all, having something you care about means it can be used against you– _like her_.

_Her._

_Don’t._

_She cared about you and you cared about her._

_Don’t!_

_She’s dead._

_Damn it._

_She is dead because you killed her._

_She’s dead because they killed her._

_No…you held the blade._

_They were going to torture her…they would have made me watch._

_You killed her._

_She’s dead because you cared about her._

_She cared about me._

_That is exactly why she died._

_You don’t keep nice things._

_You’re a collector of names of those you leave in the wake of your blade–not of nice people, not of nice times or places._

_I could be._

_You can never be.  
_

_That’s not who you are._

He huffed, jumping up from the chair, grabbing his ear and jerking on it in agitation, closing the distance to the bed so he could check on Aoi’s breathing again, not seeing any change in her, he tugged the blanket up under her chin, laying his hand across her forehead to make sure her temperature was normal…feeling lost he made his way back to the chair, feeling chained to it, bound to the spot in the room where he could see her. 

Caught in the middle between her and the door– _help or run_.

_I’m here to help, not run._

_We’ll see._

_Shut the hell up._

_You run, you’ve always run._

_I don’t._

_You ran._

_Don’t…just fucking don’t!_

_You ran because of her._

_She was already dead when I ran._

_She was your mother, and you ran._

_She was already dead when I ran._

_You didn’t stop it–you ran instead of stopping him._

_I was a child I couldn’t have stopped it._

_You could have._

_I couldn’t have, it’s not possible._

_I think–_

_NO! Just shut up! SHUT UP!  
_

_I have replayed it over and over again and there’s no way I could have changed anything!  
_

_I have approached it from every side, every angle._

_It isn’t possible, I couldn’t have stopped him._

_You could have._

_I would be dead myself!_

_Maybe you should have been._

_What…_

_Maybe you were meant to be dead already._

_Maybe that’s why the ground turns black with blood where you walk._

_Maybe that’s why death is the water you bathe yourself in._

_Maybe you were meant to already be beyond life’s reach._

_No._

_Maybe?_

_No, I don’t believe that._

_I was not meant to die!_

_Maybe?_

_I know I wasn’t._

_Then why were you allowed to live._

_Fuck you! I wasn’t “allowed” to live you bastard!  
_

_I crawled across the depths of hell to live._

_I crawled through the broken, bleeding shards of my mother’s heart to live._

_I climbed out of the murky darkness of what could have been to step into the faint light of what really was._

_Don’t you dare try to say I was ‘allowed’ to live–fuck that!  
_

_I fought to live._

_I fought to survive._

_I live because I chose it–because I wanted it._

_It wasn’t a gift given to me, it was something I ripped out of the hands of the devil himself._

He didn’t know when the room had become silent, no sound other than the rustling of his hand against his head where he was grabbing his ear, trying to calm himself down–and then he realized the voice was mute. He twisted in the chair, looking behind him, because sometimes it felt to him like a living, breathing thing in the room with him. He wanted to think about life without the voice, but small reprieves were always limited.

His eyes landed on Aoi on the bed, her form still and silent and he wished she’d wake up, wished she’d move or something–as much as he sometimes became overwhelmingly annoyed by her ongoing talking, right now it’s all he wanted–all he needed was to hear her voice, even if her words were stupid ones, he wouldn’t care–he just felt too alone. 

Too set apart from her. 

He needed her, to sit up and say something stupid that he’d snap at her about…just anything because being left alone to his own voices was too much, too hard–at least at home he had his music, distractions and such–even his cell phone was dead and his charger was across the street–he didn’t dare leave her, didn’t dare walk away–unwilling to risk that something could happen to her while he was gone.

Someone could discover her and take her away, force her out of his life. Take her from him. He knew in his heart that he shouldn’t feel this strongly, shouldn’t care this much, the ongoing battle was fierce, yet, he didn’t really care, he’d slay every demon that rose up against him to deter him from his affection for her–he’d fight all of heaven and earth to keep her safe. 

He understood now. 

That’s what it looked like. 

_I love her, and that’s what it looks like._

_She’s going to be gone eventually._

_Shut up._

_If not by her own design, then forced away from you._

_Forced away from your toxicity.  
_

_I won’t let that happen.  
_

_If not the people, then death itself maybe._

_Death._

_Because of you, she’s dying, because you did what you did._

_That’s not true._

_It is, you do things and other people pay for them._

_They leave you because you’re not worth staying for._

_I didn’t…it wasn’t like that._

_It was exactly like that._

_Shut up.  
_

_I…I know it wasn’t._

_She left you._

_She…she left me?_

_She did…she left because of you._

_But…but I came after her and I’m…I’m saving her._

_No, she’s dying, and it is because she’s tangled up with you._

_I’m helping her, she’s not dying._

_She’s dying._

_One way or another._

_No, I’ll save her, I’m saving her._

_You don’t even know how to save someone, all you know to do is kill._

_Shut up.  
_

_I can heal her, I can help her._

_It’s the truth, you just want to pretend it’s not._

_This isn’t who you are._

_She left you because of who you are._

_This is all your fault._

_I know the truth._

_Then you know all you do is kill the things that matter to you._

_No…I can be healing.  
_

_I can._

_You don’t have that gift._

_Your only gift is death._

_Death?_

_Yes._

_It’s not true._

_It’s true._

_Please, don’t say it anymore._

_I’m telling you the truth._

_I don’t lie to you._

_You are the liar._

_That’s what you said._

_How do you know who said it?_

_Stop._

_Please._

He’d spent hours debating the different facets of the argument, he’d wavered between absolute assurance that he was doing the right thing tending to her himself, and alternately in complete despondency that he was going to be completely responsible for her demise because he was so distrusting and stubborn and evil. He would try to leave the room over and over again, but he couldn’t make it out the door, tethered to her, needing to be there in the room where she was breathing, not able to walk away. 

Being there was terrifying. 

Leaving was impossible.

_I did everything they said to do._

_It’s too late for that, she left, now she’s dying._

_Please stop saying that, I’m doing everything I can._

_It’s not enough, that’s why she hasn’t woken up yet._

_She doesn’t want to wake up, because of you._

_Because who you are is not worth living for._

_Every minute she’s closer to it._

_Closer to waking up?_

_No, closer to death._

_Stop!  
_

_I know she’s not, I checked just a minute ago!_

_She might already be dead._

_No!_

_She could be._

_I’ll check again._

He’d done everything he could, read for hours on the internet, the primary reason his cell phone was dead, all in his desperate attempt to take care care of her, and to do it without becoming completely paralyzed by his fears. 

_This is all your fault._

_I don’t know if it is…maybe…_

_It’s always your fault._

_Fuck you! It’s not._

_This definitely is._

_No…it might…maybe it isn’t._

_It is, it always is._

_No…not this time…maybe…_

_Where do you get off on all this hope?_

_You’re an instrument of the devil, not of an angelic sort._

_I…I don’t always have to be._

_You are what you are._

_I can…try to…_

_No._

_I want to be better for her._

_You are who you are._

_I…I don’t have to be._

_You are._

_I’m not._

_You did this._

_Did I really?_

_Yes._

_Maybe…maybe I did._

_I might have._

_You did._

_I did._

_Maybe._

Once he realized there was nothing else to do, he’d forced himself to sit in the chair in the corner of her room again, trying to focus on his breathing, trying to keep himself calm as the hours passed, his legs stretched out in front of him, his arms crossed as his eyes burned from blinking so few times as he stared at her, studied her, watched her for any signs of life.

_She’s never waking up._

_It’s your fault._

_You killed her._

_She died because of you._

_No.  
_

_Stop that!  
_

_I didn’t do this, I just…I just…_

_You just killed her._

_NO!  
_

_I love her._

_Your love kills things._

_The things you love always die._

_Not her, I love her, and I will keep her alive._

_You don’t have the ability to nurture things, only destroy._

_I can learn._

_You can’t…and she’s probably dead already anyway._

_She’s not! I just checked._

_She could be…_

_She’s not._

_She…she moved._

_She’s…she’s alive…_

_She’s waking up._

_This time._

_Shut up._

_Just shut the fuck up!  
_

Aoi blinked at the bright light streaming in through her window, her hand reaching up to touch her head, the thrumming of the pain making her whimper, shifting, her entire body feeling like it was weighed down, and everything hurt. It felt like every bone in her body was bent, every muscle revolting against any change of position, and when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye she wasn’t afraid, rather, not like she would have been otherwise, somehow, she’d known that Semi had been there.

She’d heard him, talking, sometimes—not that she could piece much together, not really, but she knew he was there, and maybe that’s why she had not been afraid to just sleep, to  _really_  sleep.

She couldn’t remember a time when she’d really relaxed and allowed herself to fall into a peaceful sleep, contented in the knowledge that she was safe, that nothing was going to hurt her— _because he was here_ —he was protecting her, looking out for her, and she didn’t have to be worried. Nothing would happen so long as he was there. She could be still, let herself fall deep into sleep—and he’d make sure everything was safe for her.

She shifted, saw his head tilt sideways, and she whispered, her voice hoarse, throat sore as she spoke, “Semi…are…are you okay?”

“Don’t be fucking stupid,” he huffed loudly, his face twisted in a deep frown, standing up and moving across the room to the bed, “I’m fine, I’m more concerned about you.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out, but before she could say anything else he’d closed the distance between them, his knee hitting the bed, leaning forward toward her, his eyes full of an emotion she couldn’t decipher. His hands landed on the headboard over her head, his eyes searching her face, studying her as he frowned.

“Shut up,” he hissed, seeing whatever he was looking for in her eyes, then shoving off the headboard to lean onto his knees, “You’re fine, that’s all that matters now.”

“What….” she tried to remember, tried to force the memories into some coherent order but she couldn’t seem to make much sense of them.

“I’m the one who’s sorry,” he shifted, twisting to sitting down on the bed beside her, turning his back to her, his eyes focused on something across the room, “I didn’t…I mean…I shouldn’t have done…”

“Fuck,” Aoi snapped in aggravation, her hand slapping the comforter next to him, but he didn’t react, didn’t move, didn’t flinch despite the trill of her voice, “You’re fucking kidding me?”

His head slowly turned to look at her shrugging, an eyebrow raising, “What the hell are you on about?”

“If you tell me you’re sorry about the other night I really might lose my shit completely,” she meant it, and he knew she did, tilting her head, her words a weapon thrown at him, “Is  _that_  what you’re sorry for?”

“Fuck no,” he frowned, irritated that it was her ‘go to’ thought, “I don’t regret it, it was…” his eyes lifted to hers and she saw it, the vulnerability, the thing he always hid from the world, and all too often from her…but in that moment it was clear to her, and she reached to grab his hand that was laying on the comforter next to her.

“…it was perfect,” he admitted, his eyes shifting away from hers to stare at the wall, “…but…Aoi, I should have talked to you about it though, maybe not done it…maybe just not like…" he sighed, turning his form away from her again, “Not like that, is all.”

“I’m not sorry,” she glared at the back of his head, irritated as she squeezed his hand and then released it, groaning as she sat up, everything from head to toe screaming in protest.

“Why did you leave?” 

His voice was so soft, so small if the room weren’t so quiet she wouldn’t have heard him, she froze in place, her eyes widened as he turned his head, his expression blank, somehow like he was schooling his face to not give away the real thoughts behind the words, the moment of unveiled vulnerability gone now, replaced with a clean, blank slate.

“Well, hello…” she laughed softly, her heart pounding in her chest at him confronting her so directly, though, she shouldn’t be surprised, this was, after all, Semi she was dealing with, “We’re just going straight to it then?”

“Yes,” he didn’t even care to mince words or attempt to be kind about this—she’d been sleeping for eighteen hours and for eighteen hours he’d filled in the blanks with a thousand reasons for her behavior, and despite figuring he understood, he wasn’t going to be satisfied until he heard it from her own mouth.

She stared at him for a moment before she shook her head, quickly shuffling across the bed to drop her feet to the floor beside where he was sitting. Her mind whirling with words that just didn’t want to be spoken.

She stood up, testing her legs and when she didn’t immediately collapse she moved slowly toward the door, "I’m starving.”

“So, you’re just ignoring the question then?” Semi spoke from directly behind her, his fingers clenching tightly on her hips as his breath whispered softly across her neck, causing her to jump, her senses sluggish and slow from the cloud of sleep.

“Semi!” she twisted, not missing the fact that he was completely serious as she pushed him for sneaking up on her, and then made her way across the room to the kitchen, opening the fridge door and peering inside, then twisting to look at him, “Are you hungry?”

“I’m not hungry,” he snapped at her, shoving the chair at the table back so he could unceremoniously plop down in it, scowling at her, his voice cold, pointed, “I want answers.”

_I can’t tell you._

_I won’t._

“I don’t want to talk about this, there are no answers, I just came here, there was no motive or reason, I just wanted to,” the lies fell off her lips easily as she turned her back to Semi, slamming the cabinet door after she’d retrieved her glass, her heart beating wildly in her chest at the very thought of sharing something so deeply personal with him.

_You idiot, you love him—isn’t that by the very definition what love is?_

_What the fuck do you know about love–shut the hell up!_

 

“You can say that,” Semi crooned softly from his seat across the room, and something about his tone made the hair on the back of her neck stand up, because he was bitterly angry moments before, and that–she understood that, but when he instantly became soothed? That was truly terrifying, and she glanced over at him as he finished his thought, her eyebrow raising as he spoke, “…but we both know it’s a lie.” 

_Fucking Semi!  
_

_I swear to God he is like a human lie detector._

_I’m usually good at this._

_Get your shit together, Aoi!_

“It isn’t,” Aoi snapped, turning to take a sip of the lemonade she’d poured herself, her eyes landing on his, glaring at him, “ _I’m not lying._ ”

_That seemed good.  
_

_That was good._

“You sure as hell are,” he responded instantly, sitting forward to rest his elbows on the table in front of him, leveling the full intensity of his gaze as he spoke pointedly, “The real question I have is why?”

_Fucking fuck.  
_

_Seriously._

“There is no why,” Aoi insisted dismissively, rolling her eyes, “I just don’t want to talk about it!”

“Sure,” Semi nodded, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms, his eyes boring into her, “We’ll go with you being a completely emotionally stunted woman, devoid of any ability to gauge her own feelings, let alone anyone else’s, who doesn’t know how to share a single fuck about herself on any kind of meaningful level then.”

“Fuck you!” Aoi hissed, feeling every button he had pushed with extreme force, slamming her glass down on the counter, “I most certainly am not! You dumb ass! If either of us are whatever the fuck emotionally stupid it’s definitely  _you!_ So just shut the fuck up!”

Semi laughed loudly, “Fuck that!  _I’m not the one who ran away._ ”

He raised one eyebrow, tilting his head down, and she saw the way he was challenging her, his eyes dark, dangerous, as they narrowed slightly, clearly calling her out. It seemed to her that she could somehow feel his fingers wrapped around her throat from across the kitchen, her senses instantly on edge, her eyes darting to his hands which remained crossed on his chest, on high alert for any movement from him.

_I didn’t run away, Semi._

_I didn’t._

The accusation made her want to slam the glass on the edge of the counter and throw the broken shards at him, fury instantly flowing through her veins as she closed her fists, the words spoken through clenched teeth, “ _I didn’t fucking run away_.”

“Wow,” Semi squinted his eyes, leaning forward in a challenge, “Aren’t we extraordinarily stupid today….maybe, there was an effect from the drugs after all.”

He knew, she knew that he knew, that these words were the same as gasoline on an open flame, but when his eyes lifted from where her hands were clenched to her eyes, there was a single moment, one breath of stillness before the room was in motion.

She darted across the space to the table beside the chair where she’d been the day before, throwing the drawer out as her fingers wrapped around the knife she kept hidden there. She hadn’t been able to release the switch before he was on her, his arms wrapping around her waist, picking her up off the ground, then one of them snaked around her arm, holding her wrist, her eyes wide when she managed to free the blade, the metallic sound loud in her ears.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing right now?” Semi hissed in her ear, “Drop that knife!”

“Fuck you,” she growled, slamming her heel down on the top of his foot, causing him to loosen his grip on her, and before he could make sense of her motions she’d twisted in his grasp, the knife swinging through the air, heading toward his shoulder.

Her breath was knocked out of her when he shoved her suddenly with both hands, her balance tedious, and then the knife was wretched from her hand and he had it pressed against her throat. She swallowed thickly, her breath jagged as she held herself still, her eyes narrowed as they leveled with his.

“Maybe you need to calm the fuck down,” Semi whispered, his body shifting toward her, and part of her wanted to grab his hand and shove the knife straight through her own throat…another part of her wanted to shove it into  _his_ throat…and another part of her wanted to throw it across the room, grab him and just kiss the hell out of him.

_Decisions, decisions._

She saw the moment of weakness, the moment when he had felt the waves of whatever emotion she’d released into the space between them and she seized upon it, her fingers sliding up his chest, his body stiffened as he inhaled sharply from her touch.

It was all she needed.

She swept his feet, scrambling to get on top of him as he grunted, his back hitting the floor, and when she raised her hand into the air to attack him, he grabbed her wrist, holding it still, and she realized he was smiling.

_Fucking smiling._

“Hello, beautiful,” he whispered, a slow smirk appearing on his face as his eyes softened.

Aoi blinked, her hand still poised in the air to attempt to stab him, when her eyes connected with his, “Wh…what?”

“You’re beautiful, put that knife away,” he released her wrist, his hand moving quickly to brush across her cheek before he shoved her stomach, trying to push her off him, “Seriously, Aoi, stop, I just want to talk to you.”

She held completely frozen in place, her breath still heavy from the fight, her voice filled with anger, “You fucking started it!”

“Now, I’m ending it,” Semi shoved her backward, causing her to lose her balance, landing in a sprawled heap on the floor as he shifted to stand up, “Let’s go, I’m tired, I’m ready to go home.”

“I am home,” she hissed, still feeling the adrenaline pumping through her from the fight.

Semi felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, his entire body tensing at the words she’d said, his voice low, “No, you’re  _here_ ,” his head jerked sideways toward Iwanishi’s apartment across the street, “That is  _home_.”

“I  _am_  home,” Aoi insisted, a belligerent fire burning within her, sitting up and glaring at his back.

She didn’t even see him move, then he was there, her arms pressed into the ground with each of his knees holding them down, her own blade in one of his hands, and his other hand grasping her neck as he leaned down over her, his teeth clenched as he spoke, “ _Those_  are the _real_  fighting words.”

“What the fuck are  _real_  fighting words?” she snapped at him, carefully gauging him for an opportunity to strike.

“You saying your  _home_  is here.”

Her fingers had been clenched against his legs, but when he spoke she tilted her head, studying him, reading him, and she realized this wasn’t just him picking a fight with her, this had changed into something else, “Why does it matter, it’s just a phrase, I own this place—that by the very definition makes it my home.”

“No,” Semi shook his head, his voice soft, the words jumbled, like he was trying to make sense of them as he was thinking them, speaking them, his eyes wide, “I want you…I think…it’s just…you…”

Aoi saw in him the child-like person that he kept buried deep within, the one who just wanted someone to care, to love him, to see him as he was and to appreciate that he was of great value. Who wanted to just be cared for, nothing else…and she wanted to be the person to do that, but it was so complicated. Dealing with the chaos from her own mind while trying to soothe the mania inside his seemed nearly insurmountable.

Semi’s mouth opened and closed, trying to find the words to speak, his mind was filled with confusion, his own thoughts seeming to contradict one another, he couldn’t seem to form the proper words, his head jerking to the side in the way it did when he was trying to keep the fragile control over himself, the noise suddenly deafening in his ear, shuffling quickly off her, “Never mind, it’s fine.”

_Tell him._

_I need you!_

_Tell him._

_I love you!_

_Do it._

_Please!  
_

_Don’t leave me!_

He’d turned away from her, not willing to allow her to see him in his moment of weakness, drawing up onto his knees when she suddenly closed the distance between them, knocking the breath from his chest as she slammed into him, her arms wrapping around his form as he froze in place, her hand holding the knife out to him as she lay her head on his back, her mind focusing on the beat of his heart under her ear.

“I wasn’t ready for…how it all…” she sighed, trying to figure out how to explain her thoughts when they didn’t make sense to herself. 

The words were soft, but they seemed somehow to be a scream to Semi as he slowly slid his fingers down her extended arm, wrapping them around her hand and then gently withdrew the knife from her. He pressed it against his chest to close it, and then placed it back into her hand, forcing her to take it into her grasp before he pushed her hands apart so he could shift around to face her. 

She leaned back on her knees, the heels of her hands pressing into her eyes, “I guess…it was a lot…and I didn’t…”

He shuffled forward, not approving of the way she kept moving away from him when he was just trying to understand, trying to make sense of things. 

He cursed his hand, the one that had mercilessly taken so many lives that he’d lost count–the hand that had done horrific things and never wavered for a single moment–the same hand that was moving forward toward her, trembling…from what he couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t like it. Not one bit–still he didn’t withdraw, merely clenched his fist tightly for a second and then closed the distance to her, his fingers lifting her chin, his eyes wide, and when her eyes met his she wanted to cry because he  _needed_ something, and she  _really_  wanted to give it to him, she wanted to understand how to let him have whatever it was that would make him happy.

“I felt too much,” she whispered, holding his eyes, refusing to look away–if he could give, if he could step into her circle, she would meet him just the same, “It…was a lot to feel…and I…I guess I hadn’t ever really had to deal with that and…”

“Me either,” Semi offered, his voice hoarse with an unnamed, unfamiliar feeling, his expression raw and sincere, “I haven’t ever had to either.”

She nodded, leaning up, and then slowly moving toward him, wrapping her arms around him, the movement tentative, preparing herself for rejection because she knew things weren’t simple with them, with her, with him, with them–nothing ever was simple. She felt instant relief flooding her when his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly against his chest, her voice shaking as she confessed, “I don’t know how to deal with it…”

“I thought,” Semi hated how uncertain his voice sounded in his own ears, part of him furious that he didn’t know how to be normal, how to be like someone else, but…he’d reasoned at some point or another, that Aoi didn’t want someone else, she wanted _him_ , and that meant even the parts that were insecure and uncertain, “Aoi…I mean, we agreed to figure it out together—isn’t that right?”

“I know, we did,” she drew back, tilting her head up to look at him, wanting to force the way he looked out of her mind, because she knew she’d hurt him, the thing she swore she wouldn’t do she did, but for now, she felt confident, at least in telling him the truth, “I…I will have to get used to that…I…I’m seriously screwed up…I don’t know how to be…with someone else, how to…handle the feelings…I will have to figure out how to do this…”

“Then…” Semi took a deep breath, “…at least, stick to the plan.”

She tilted her head, and he laughed, “To figure it out together, Aoi–we said we would, so just…quit being a stupid idiot and trying to figure out shit on your own. You don’t have to do that now.”

“I’m not used to thinking like that,” she admitted softly, her eyes moving past him, darting back when he cleared his throat.

“I understand, I’m not either–but…we can learn for each other, right?” 

She nodded, feeling like she could cry but not really understanding why she felt that way–his fingers moving softly on her back and when she glanced down to stop him from seeing her emotions so forthright, realizing that he’d dressed her in a pair of her pajamas, her eyes landing on the Pooh Bear characters on them, “You–you took care of me.”

“I said I would,” he brushed off her words, implying that it was nothing more than he should have done but she knew the truth, she could see the strain, the heaviness of what the hours that had passed had taken from him. She couldn’t take it for granted, not when she had to admit there was a part of her that hadn’t remotely expected him to show up there.

Yet, he came after her, and he took care of her. 

_He took care of me._

_No one takes care of me._

_Semi does._

_He is the only one._

Her eyes moved over him, truly taking inventory of his state, and the more she looked the more she was convinced she’d put him through pure hell. Of course, she knew, she had to have known, somewhere inside, when she ran out of that apartment what it was going to do to him, but at the time it felt like there was no choice. 

Now, she felt regret for causing him such pain. She wanted to ask him the question that were dying to drip off her tongue–what happened while I was asleep?

_Don’t do that to him, don’t make him admit the darkness he faced._

Who could say what his demons had been whispering in the hours she lay asleep in her own drug-induced state. What did he battle while she was gone, oblivious to everything he was struggling with…and as she drew his pain within herself, her eyes seeing into his very heart, she felt her soul flood with guilt.

His eyes were round and full of worry, something she’d never seen before, something she never wanted to see from him, and he swallowed thickly, his voice was so small when he spoke, “I thought…I was worried you’d taken too many of those pills, Aoi.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself,” she whispered, needing him to understand but not sure she could explain it, her hand lifting to brush his hair away from his eyes, so she could see him better, realizing he probably hadn’t slept while she was asleep when she noted the way they were red rimmed with dark circles underneath, “I swear I wasn’t…”

“Okay,” he nodded, his eyes still intense despite the way he tried to shrug it off, “I know you don’t have a reason to lie to me…but…”

She studied him as he worked to find the right words, his hand snapping out and grabbing her wrist to stop her motion, squeezing it tightly, “ _Don’t do that again._ ”

She wanted to promise him, to say anything that would make it better for him, but she knew he’d hear the lie, “I’ll try.”

He took a careful inventory of her, weighing what she was saying to him for truth, and then he nodded, “Alright.”

“It wasn’t because I meant to,” Aoi whispered, needing him to know, to understand, “I…I didn’t mean to hurt you, Semi.”

She watched the play of emotions on his face, and she knew she was most certainly right about the war he’d fought while she’d been sleeping, her hand shaking as she touched his cheek, “I…I don’t always deal with things…the right ways, you know? But…Semi…this wasn’t about you, it wasn’t…I mean, it wasn’t your fault.”

He hummed softly, and his eyes moved past her look at the wall behind her, her hand grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her, his eyes wide and a thread of anxiety stretching across his features,  mixed with a flare of anger at being forced to do anything, even just to look at her, but she was getting through this, getting this through to him, so she did not waver when faced with his conflicting emotions, her voice firm, “You didn’t do this, it wasn’t your fault.”

He didn’t respond, his expression didn’t change, and she leaned closer, “Do you understand? I…”

She shook her head, angry, at herself, at the crazy voice that told him lies, and she wanted to beat it out of him, “I did this, me…it wasn’t about you, it’s about me…I just…I’ve always handled things my way—and I know…okay…I get it, now…I have to think differently, but…just be patient, but…”

She shook her head, “Semi, you didn’t do anything…this wasn’t about you, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered, his eyes softening.

“I…felt a lot of stuff, and memories and things, even happy memories are unbelievably painful for me, and I just…I needed to make it stop…that’s…that’s all…”

She dropped her head down, whatever bravery she’d had moments before lost to the feeling that she had hurt him, that she’d been selfish in hurting him after she’d meant to only take care of him.

“Hey,” Semi moved his hand to her cheek, lifting her chin up as his thumb rubbed across the skin softly, “I won’t pretend to understand, because you know I don’t, my whole childhood is one big fucked up history lesson I would rather forget…but…I mean…maybe I get it a  _little bit_ , okay?”

“You do?” Aoi asked, her eyes wide as she watched his expression change.

He swallowed thickly, “I guess, I do some…I…I miss my…my…mom…”

Aoi’s chest clenched at the way the word came out of his mouth, like it was on fire, burning him as he spoke it…all of the memories, whatever he’d kept inside of her, somehow tarnished by the years of decay in his life.

She grabbed him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tightly, sighing when his arms wrapped around her and held her just as tightly.

She wondered if he remembered her? Remembered what she looked like, or maybe how she sounded… _did she sing to him when he was tired or sad?_

_Did she love him and hug him?  
_

_Did he know what she was like?  
_

_Does he have a picture of her?_

Aoi felt the air rush out of her chest, her heart beating wildly when snippets of memories rushed through her mind—and before she could stop herself she jerked backward, scrambling across the floor, getting to her feet and rushing to her bedroom where she flipped on the light, her eyes moving frantically across the space, “No…no…”

She moved around the room, to the other side of the bed, looking around frantically, dropping to the floor and peering under the bed, finding nothing there, she ran her hands up into her hair, her entire body vibrating with uncertainty as she stood up and rushed to the dresser, fumbling with books there.

“I…I cleaned them up…” his soft voice reached her in the rushing chaos of her mind.

Her head jerked to the doorway where Semi was standing, one hand on his hip, the other scratching the back of his head, his entire posture denoting his reluctance to tell her the truth since he wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it.

“You—you what?” her mind tried to make sense of it, her eyes glancing to the floor where they’d been…where she’d….

“What…wh—what did you do with them?”

She shuffled toward him, tears swelling in her eyes as she imagined that he’d tossed them out, probably something she should have done herself, but she just didn’t want to.

“I…umm…” Semi gestured to the nightstand behind her, “I…fixed the ones I could…but…some of them…I couldn’t…I’m sorry, Aoi.”

Her head snapped to the side to look behind her, her eyes landing on the album sitting there on her nightstand and then they darted back to look at Semi, “Y-you…you…”

She turned, crossing the room to pick up the book as she crawled onto the bed, switching on the lamp there, opening the first page, her hand fluttering to her chest, a tear falling down onto the plastic page, as she turned to the next one.

The pictures weren’t in order, of course, they weren’t because Semi didn’t know what order they would go in, but…they were taped back together, some of them still hard to see because of the rips and stain marks—but, as she turned through the pages, she was overwhelmed by the effort he’d put into restoring these pictures.

She jumped when he spoke, “Who…who are they?”

Her eyes lifted to his, a tear making a slow path down her cheek as she grabbed his hand, pulling him down onto the bed in front of her, her voice shaking when she pointed to a picture on the page, her eyes moving back to look at him as he tilted his head, his fingers holding onto hers.

“That’s my…she’s my mom.”

“Your mom,” Semi whispered softly, his eyes suddenly holding a light in them she’d never seen before, a reverence for the picture as his other hand moved slowly across the image she’d pointed to.

Aoi hummed softly, “This is my Dad,” pointing to the picture on the other page, “That’s my younger brother, and that’s my baby sister…”

Semi stared at the pictures, his eyes burning with the desire to just weep over them, because he’d _known_ , somewhere inside as he’d spent hours fixing those pictures—he knew who the people were…but he didn’t want to think about it…didn’t want to consider what that meant—that Aoi had someone out there, a family who cared about her and loved her—people she could leave to go back to. 

He didn’t want to think about it but he also knew, he was cognizant enough to realize that it was the most selfish thing he could ever think, feel, even consider—she deserved to be loved.

“Aoi,” he looked up at her, the words feeling like razor blades in his throat as they clawed their way out, because it was the last thing in the world he’d ever want her to do, but something in him was screaming that she should, that she needed to, the words painful as they met the air between them, “Why…why don’t you go back?”

“I don’t  _want_  to,” she admitted, the words simple, her hands running across the page as she spoke, “I don’t want to bring my corruption into their lives…”

“It…it wouldn’t have to be like that…” Semi whispered, wanting to kick his own ass for actually trying to talk her into this, “You could…”

_Damn it! Damn it!_

_I’ll die if she leaves._

_Shut the fuck up, you big baby!_

_We did fine without her, we’d be fine again._

_I won’t!_

_I’m here, I’ll take care of you._

_That’s scarier than her leaving._

_Thanks._

Aoi took a deep breath, her eyes lifting to meet his conflicted ones, “I could go back and do what exactly? Be a waitress? Be a model daughter? What would I tell my Mom when she comes in to wake me up in the morning and I have a knife at her throat instantly? What would I tell my Dad if he tried to hug me and I flinched? How would I be able to be near my baby sister and trust myself to not snap?”

Semi studied her, then slowly nodded, understanding this feeling, understanding the way it felt to not fully trust yourself, but at the same time the person inside of him that somehow cared more about her than his own happiness, that person was somehow winning the internal debate, his voice firm, “I wish you wo—”

“Semi,” she interrupted him, moving his hand off the book, and then closing it, setting it carefully back on the nightstand before she drew his hands into her own, “ _I am where I want to be_.”

“I—I—you…” Semi couldn’t think of the words he wanted to say, his eyes wide as he looked at her, the words rushing through his system like a healing balm to the wounds that had been angry and fevered only moments before.

Aoi stared at him, taking in his expression, closing her eyes for a moment, shaking her head, and when she opened them, she smiled, her words soft, “You don’t have to be worried,” Aoi scooted forward, “I am where I want to be.”

He inhaled, trying to believe her, because to him, this seemed an impossible thing–because the noises in his head had spent every day of his life until this one demanding that he understand the cold hard truth.

He was nothing.

He was no one.

How, then…how could he be certain, how could he be sure?

_You can never be sure._

_Never._

For a moment it felt like he was drowning, like the air in the room was sucked straight from his lungs and he was desperate to take a breath but knew what he’d take in would be too thick, impossible to breath. 

_Stop._

_Please…  
_

_Don’t do this._

_You would believe the lies._

_Stop.  
_

_Stop it!_

_You can never be sure._

_I can!_

_No, you can’t._

_Don’t…_

_Please…_

_Don’t ruin this for me._

_I’m not ruining it, I’m telling you the truth._

_She’s telling the truth._

_Is she?_

_Yes._

_How do you know?_

_Because…_

_…_

_See, you don’t know._

_I do, I know._

_I know because she loves me._

Aoi could see it, she could see the inner demons trying to take him captive, to hold him within, to tarnish the words she was trying to say to him, and she felt a flare of anger that such a thing could happen–that she would be a helpless victim to the chaos within his mind. 

_Not easily, not this time._

His eyes popped open, startled when Aoi reached forward, gasping as he tried to catch his breath, her hand moving slowly across his cheek , her voice soft, “Stay here with me, Semi. Don’t listen to the voices that would tell you what I feel. I’m here. I want to be here. I love you.” _  
_

_She loves me.  
_

_You’re not the kind of guy that girls fall in love with._

_That’s not who you are.  
_

_You’re the kind of guy that girls run from._

_She’s not just some 'girl’._

_She is._

“I want to be wherever you are,” she whispered, her voice seeming like it was settling over him, layer after layer, and then her hands were grabbing his own, pulling them up to hold them against her chest, dragging him away from the voice that was clawing at him trying to make him fall into the depths of darkness, “I love you, Semi! Please believe me, I love you! I’m crazy, and broken, and out of my damn mind half the time–” she laughed but it lacked humor, spilling the chaos of her mind into the air between them, risking everything, at least to her it seemed so, but she was willing to, willing to do anything to make him hear the truth, “I like killing people, hell, I actually love it! I even like fighting with you sometimes…I’m messed up–okay? I’m super messed up–but I love you, and  _all I want is to be with you._ ” _  
_

“I love you,Semi,” she felt like the words were more powerful than anything she’d ever said, and in all of her heart she needed them to reach him where he was, “I’m completely, utterly fucked up, but…but…it has to be enough to say that I love you, and…if…if you would, if you’ll have me, I’ll never leave your side.” _  
_

“Please, hear me…Semi, please,” she squeezed his hands, holding them tightly, “Believe me.” _  
_

__She’s not just some 'girl’._  
_

_…  
_

_She’s a killer, like me–the rules of what’s normal don’t apply to her._

_Or me for that matter, so your argument is invalid._

_See, you don’t know, because you’re not really me–but, but I know–she’s not just some ‘girl’._

_She’s my girl._

_My girl.  
_

_When she looks at me I see the truth._

_…w-what t-truth?_

_That she sees someone in me worth looking at._

_That she sees something in me worth fighting for._

_That she sees someplace in her future for me._

_That she sees me–who I really am–and she loves me anyway._

_She sees me.  
_

_She loves me.  
_

_So just shut up!  
_

_…_

_She left, she ran, yes._

_Now, she has explained._

_We’re…_

_We’re learning together…that’s how it is…_

_…a step forward and one back again and then then we take another together again, that’s what it is…_

_I read about it once, and that’s who we are together…_

_It’s broken, and stupid, and it’ll be a miracle if we don’t kill each other…_

_…but…we are walking the same direction now._

_Together, and we’ll make it, because…  
_

_…that’s how my life looks now._

He sat still, not blinking or looking away from her waiting for the sound to argue and when it didn’t he had a sense of satisfaction wash through him at being right about this, about being right about her, his voice trembling when the words finally made their way out of his throat, not as a shouted declaration, no, rather like a whisper into a darkness that was suddenly being revealed in the light, “I love you, Aoi.”

Her hands released his, slowly reaching up, to take gentle hold of his cheeks, “I love you,” she smiled shyly as she shifted up onto her knees, shuffling forward, his head lifting to look at her, his eyes shining with emotion, his expression one that revealed his innermost desires, his vulnerability on full display for her, and she smiled, his words coursing through her very soul, her thumb running across his cheek, affection permeating everything around them, “I want to be with you, Semi.”

She moved, slowly enough to give him a chance to stop her, and when he didn’t, she carefully pressed her lips to his, soft, and tender with the love she felt for him, his eyes fluttering closed as his own lips slid smoothly across hers, his body held still, trying to keep the noise quiet, to give himself over to be consumed by the moment–this one moment where Aoi wanted to be with him, where she really did, a time and place where she was willing to give up a family who probably spent years waiting for her to return, who he knew loved her from seeing the pictures—they were just that kind of family—but she’d give them up…because she was where she wanted to be.

_Here with me._


	5. Charm. (Alt-pov Semi)

 

Musical Inspiration for this part: “Don’t Let Me Go” by Raign

 

 

##  **Semi-POV: Scene 1: Part 11: Charm.**

 

 

* * *

 

 

I’m watching myself  
Drifting away  
A vision so darkened  
I cannot stay  
I’m reaching out wide  
Trying to catch myself before I fall  
Too little too late  
Can you save me  
  
Where do we go when we walk on light  
Who do we call at the edge of night  
Carry me close like the tear drops in your eyes  
All I can give you is memories  
Carry them with you and I’ll never leave  
I’ll lay my head down  
But when I lay my head down  
  
Don’t let me go  
Hold me in your beating heart  
I won’t let go  
Forever is not enough  
Let me lay my head down on the shadow by your side  
Don’t let me go  
Hold me in your beating heart  
  
So let me freeze time  
Before it turns cold  
The moments go by  
And life goes on  
The torturous stars  
Are taking every breath I wish I held  
The love in my heart  
Is never ending   
  
You can’t see me  
But you still feel me  
I only live in your memories   
I mean something  
Your everything   
You lay me down  
Take me there

 

* * *

 

Semi had thrown himself down on the bed, trying to clear his head, trying to make sense of the storm of emotions flowing through him–the pain from the shards of glass in his skin reminding him that this was not finished, that there was a mess in the other room.

_Complicated._

_Everything is so complicated._

He reached up, pulling one of the pieces of glass from his cheek, holding it up into the unusual tiny sliver of light cast across the bed from where the curtains had moved, the crimson blood shimmering like a ruby.

_So pretty._

He wanted to sleep, felt overwhelmed by the explosion before, but then he heard the noise, the soft descent that sounded like heavy stage curtains falling closed.

“Ooomph.”

It was a small, breathy sound, but he knew it was Aoi, his stomach knotting up out of some unknown, foreign emotion as he waited.

Silence.

It stretched out, and his fists drew up tightly as he called out, loathe to do so but feeling like something was terribly off, his intuition screaming at him while the rest of him remained complacent, not wanting to open his mouth, but still something inside of him forced the name to form on his lips, “Aoi?”

Silence.

_Blessed silence._

He sighed, trying to relax, feeling like sleep was smoothing around the edges of his mind, and he wanted nothing more than to fall into it.

_What was that noise?_

_No. Ugh. Shut up._

_Seriously, what was the noise?_

He groaned, wanting to sleep, wanting it so badly, but still confused because he knew he couldn’t, not without finding out what the noise was, what the sound was, pushing up off the bed, “Damn it!”

He trudged out of the bedroom door, expecting to find Aoi sitting on the couch where he’d left her, but she wasn’t there, his mouth went dry, the feeling of dread spreading across his skin like flames, “Aoi?”

His heart beat wildly in his chest as his eyes were drawn to the broken window across the room…

_Broken…broken and bloody._

He saw it, his mind’s eye creating the picture of Iwanishi on the road below, his body broken and lifeless from his jump from the window that now stood open to the wind blowing beyond it’s shattered panes.

_Dead._

_That window leads to death._

His eyes had clenched shut on their own, and he felt his fists tighten, his fingernails digging into his palms as he tried to force them back open, but his entire system was freezing up and the noise was growing louder, the violent screaming within his spirit threatening to drown him.

He felt the trembling begin, his mind suddenly filled with the vision of Aoi jumping out of that window–the same window where Iwanishi had died.

The flood of images rushed through his mind unbidden, those of Iwanishi blending in a strange display with those of Aoi, broken and bleeding, mangled and twisted on the street below, his hands jerking upward into his hair, pulling hard on the strands as he felt the sheer terror of reliving the old nightmare mixing with a brand new horror flow through his being, “No!”

His eyes flew open, fixated on the window, his feet shuffling forward of their own accord, his head jerking sideways violently as he grasped his ear, his eyes watering from how much pain he felt from his own touch, “No…no…no…no…no…”

He shifted around the corner of the couch, the crunch of glass under his feet enough to force his eyes to glance down, his breath rushing out in an audible gasp when they landed on Aoi who was laying across the bed of broken shards, his entire form frozen as he took in her crumpled up form.

“Fuck!” Semi jerked forward, the voices in his head beyond soothing, but he couldn’t be bothered with them, not right now, not with this, dropping to his knees, grimacing as he felt glass press into his knees, hoping that his pants were thick enough to protect him from most of the cuts. He pressed his fingers against her throat, swallowing hard and nodding when he was able to confirm she was alive.

_She’s alive._

_She’s still alive._

_She didn’t go out the window._

He gingerly worked his fingers underneath, lifting her head up, frowning as he realized there were multiple pieces of glass lodged in her skin, thankful that none of them had hit her eye.

He didn’t think about anything despite the way his brain was trying to get his attention, just moving on instinct to get her off the floor, moving quickly to carry her to the couch, laying her down and taking a step back, his eyes drawn down to his own form, dusting off the glass that was pressed into his clothes, his head shaking as the noise suddenly flared up causing him to clutch his hands over top of both of his ears as he doubled over from the pain.

_I don’t have time for this._

_You have nothing but time, plus you need to hear this._

_Shut up, I’m busy._

_This is your chance._

_Shut up._

_Don’t you want to know?_

_NO._

_Sure you do._

_I don’t._

He jerked sideways to walk into the bedroom, yanking his shirt over his head and pulling off his pants, looking down to inspect himself, glad that the glass seemed to be stuck to the thick fabric and not in his flesh, he grabbed clean clothes and threw them on, heading into the bathroom.

He glanced up at himself, huffing as he drew his hand up to pick out the shards of glass in his cheek he’d nearly forgotten about.

When his eyes caught his own he froze, jerking to look behind him when the voice whispered in his ear.

_You can kill her now._

He twisted back around, staring at himself, and for a moment it felt like he didn’t even know the person he was looking at.

_What?_

_You can kill her, guilt free._

“No! Just shut the fuck up!” he tried to move away, his hand grabbing the small shard of glass and pressing it further into his skin instead of pulling it loose, trying to stop himself from falling into the darkness.

His hand shook as he jerked the glass out, throwing it into the sink, his arms trembling as he grabbed onto the edge of the sink, his eyes flaring with all of the emotions battling within his body, his voice laced with desperation, “I am not doing that!”

_It’s what you do, it is who you are._

_It’s not anymore!_

His body rolled forward as he sobbed, his head shaking as he tried to keep himself in control, groaning as he flew back into the doorway, his body in motion as he tripped across the coffee table, landing on the floor between Aoi and the couch, his entire body vibrating with uncontrolled chaos.

_Do it._

_Do it._

_Go on._

_Do it._

His hands moved, his fingertips tinted red with his own blood, and maybe some of hers, he couldn’t be sure, the contrast of his skin, the blood, and the way her neck was so soft under his hands, it made him want to squeeze, made him want to experience the way her body would move under his touch, how it would respond as she took her last breath–it was different for everyone. Her bubbles were prickling his skin like a million needles and he grimaced at the sensation.

_Make the pain stop…_

_Do it._

_NO!_

His body recoiled, jerking backward, crashing into the coffee table, curling up, his arms covering his face, blocking her from view, “NO!”

_Why do you have to make this so difficult?_

_Things were so simple before her._

_I’m only trying to make things better for you._

_Just do it._

Semi growled, his breath harsh in his lungs as his anger grew.

_That’s not who I fucking am._

_It might have been simple, but I wasn’t happy._

_She makes me happy._

He waited, the noise constant but manageable, tilting his head when a faint reply spoke.

_Why?_

_Why what?_

_Why would she make you happy?_

_I..It’s…_

_Go on…tell me._

_She’s different…she’s…_

_Nothing._

_NO! She’s…she’s everything._

_Stupid romantic notion._

_It’s not…like that, exactly, it’s not stupid like that…not like that…it’s like…she’s…she’s pure._

_She’s a fucking assassin, how the hell is she pure._

_Stop! It’s not like that…it’s li–_

_It’s just like that, you’re out of your damn mind!_

_No! She sees things other people don’t see._

_So do you! It’s called a lot of names by the medical community…_

_NO! Not like that! I mean like…she hasn’t completely been broken yet._

_Her bubbles taunt you, you know they do, you can make it stop if you’d just do this…just listen to me and the pain will go away!_

_I..I can’t…I can’t…_

His hands moved forward, his eyes wide as he touched the bubble that was floating nearest him, the feeling like a knife grazing his skin, and then he grabbed it, squeezing it tightly in his fist, and then he grabbed the next one, and then the next, until he was frantically grabbing all of her bubbles, crushing them, cursing them, until he was huddled next to her in a heap, his fingers stinging from the abuse, his eyes staring at her face, at the trickle of blood slowly making a path down her cheek.

The voice was screaming, louder than it had ever been, stronger than ever before, and there was a part of him that wanted to do it, to just give in because at least for a few minutes he’d have a reprieve from the torture.

He blinked slowly as he studied her, tried to imagine it, carefully going through the motions in his mind like he did with others, but there was something there, something he didn’t understand, maybe the reluctance itself was the lack of understanding, he didn’t know but his eyes moved across her skin, taking in her aura and then he shuddered as a new bubble appeared, floating slowly up from her body toward him.

He cringed, his body stiffening in response, his eyes narrowing as he anticipated the pain, but when the bubble reached his cheek it didn’t hurt him, it didn’t sting him or cut him, instead it brushed softly against his skin, a warmth flowing from it, a unique feeling, almost like his skin was tingling where it touched and then it slowly moved back to her body, hovering there a few inches above her while a new bubble formed and drew itself up to him as if to greet him.

His body shuddered, backing away as he watched the bubbles springing outward from her body one by one, moving across the room, suspicious of these bubbles after the abuse they’d given him for so many months, suspicious of what was happening, his eyes drifting toward the window when a strong gust of wind blew the curtains inward, then landing on the sparkling glass across the floor. He didn’t want to think about Aoi or the bubbles or what any of this meant anymore, he wanted to be done with it, needing things to feel normal, he grabbed the broom and dustpan from the corner.

He carefully set about cleaning up the glass, gathering as much as he could bit by bit and then disposing of it into the garbage. He’d managed to clean up all of the glass, but the hard wood floor was stained with Aoi’s blood, splatters and pools that he couldn’t get clean with the paper towels he’d used to be sure all of the smallest bits of glass had been picked up off the floor. He sat with his legs bent behind him, his eyes fixated on the stained floor as he tried to come up with a solution. The wind blew harder, causing him to startle, standing up quickly and grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch, he shuffled over to the window to cover it up, reaching up to tuck one side of it into the curtain rod, his focus moving out the window to the street below–the broken chair shattered, and there, the bottle of bleach, sitting unharmed, shining in the light as if a beacon.

His hands trembled as he glanced back over to the stains on the floor…and then he shook his head, “NO.”

He affixed the other side of the blanket over the window, blocking his view of the street below and the cursed bottle taunting him, turning back to the floor, determined to make things right, he rushed to look under the sink, knocking down bottles of cleaners as he looked for something, anything that might remove the stains.

_Coward._

“Don’t!” he slammed the doors shut, rushing to the bathroom to look under the sink, desperate to find anything he could use.

_Don’t what?_

_I’m just being honest._

_You’re a coward._

_You act like you’re so bad ass but the truth is you’re nothing but a little boy with a knife._

“Fuck you!” Semi hissed, his body in motion before he could make sense of it, and despite his own mind reeling, somehow he was standing on the street, looking down at the bottle of bleach.

_Why even come down here?_

_You know you’re not going to use tha–_

“Shut up!” Semi grabbed the bottle of bleach and turned, rushing back into the building and taking the stairs two at a time, not giving himself time to change his own mind.

He didn’t pause, not willing to lose his momentum, grabbing wash clothes from the bathroom, and then striding quickly over to the bloodstains, dropping unceremoniously down onto his knees, his breathing jagged as he tried to keep the voice at bay.

He stared at the blue and white bottle, his entire body fixated on it like it might come to life at any moment and hurt him. He could feel the voice, the noise, the desperation of it as it clawed within him to be given voice.

“Not today,” he pushed out through clenched teeth, “I’m making this right…I’m making it right…for her.”

Somehow he knew she’d be upset by this, by the blood on the floor–after all of this time he knew her and he knew how much she cared about the house, and he knew she’d be upset and this was his fault?

Wasn’t it his fault?

It was his fault and he caused this by being so angry about the bleach, and she’d wake up and she’d probably blame herself…wouldn’t she?

_She would._

He knew she would.

_I’ll make this right for her._

_It was my fault._

_I can fix it._

_I can fix this._

_I can do this for her._

He grabbed the bottle of bleach, not willing to deal with the tedious spray nozzle, pushing himself to undo the top, his breath held in his chest as it twisted slowly, and he removed the cap, drawing the thin straw out of it and tossing the lid to the side, his fingers clenching the bottle tightly as he tilted it to pour some on the closest blood stain, quickly as he could to get this over with.

For a moment, he didn’t feel anything, in fact, for a split second, he thought maybe he was going to be just fine, after all, he’d opened the bottle and he’d poured it out and the–

His fingers dropped the bottle, bleach splattering across the floor as he doubled over, his entire body trembling as the smell of the bleach finally reached him, his stomach heaving violently as he gagged, his fists hitting the floor, splashing the bleach on his cheek, his eyes watering as he gagged again, his hand grabbing his throat as he scratched at the skin there, the hot fire of the burning liquid as if he’d actually swallowed it consuming him.

Tears streamed down his face, as he tried to calm down, tried to convince himself it wasn’t actually happening; he was in his home, he was in his house, he was with Aoi, and  _they_  weren’t there, _they_  weren’t making him drink it.

They were dead.

He had killed them.

They weren’t making him drink the bleach.

“Fuck…” the word slowly drew out of him, his fingers dragging across his collar, digging into his throat as his body jerked again, groaning when knew he was going to throw up, scrambling to his feet and rushing across the room to the bathroom, barely making it in time to expel his lunch into the toilet. Dropping down onto his knees, his body buckling from the weight as he sobbed, his head shaking, his words muddled and snotty and messy from his tears, “They’re not here…they’re not…they’re not doing it…they can’t hurt me…”

He felt his stomach roll, pressing his head onto the edge of the toilet as he tried to breathe through it, the offensive stench of the bleach feeling like it was peeling his skin off, as if it were actually burning a hole through his very being, his throat still feeling like it was on fire, a ball in the pit of his stomach.

_Told you._

He growled, furious at the condescending way his inner self viewed his actions, shoving himself off the toilet to clumsily make his way back to the blood stained floor, dropping down onto his hands and knees. He grabbed one of the clothes, dragging it roughly to the spilled bleach, across the blood stains, the red streaking the white towel instantly, his body wracked with violent tremors, as a heavy, broken sob tore through his body, his tears mingling with the liquid on the ground as he blindly scrubbed the floor.

Every few minutes his system would revolt again, his mind and body conjuring new and more terrifying memories and visions from the past once again, working in perfect unison to cast him back to those moments of suffering and pain. Of being held down and pinned to the floor, of funnels forced between his teeth and of the unimaginable pain, the way he would choke on the bleach, thinking he was definitely going to die.

But he didn’t.

Living was worse.

The pain lasted for weeks, making everything hurt, even the unconscious act of breathing hurt.

His body doubled over, his entire system locking up, his lungs burning at the memory, and for a beat of time it felt to him like he was still that boy, reliving that moment, each of the incidents seemed worse than the one before. He’d have to work through each of them, cleaning up his own tears and snot and spit as much as the blood until he’d managed to get nearly all of the stains off the floor apart from a stubborn few spots which would probably fade over time.

He drew himself up, propped on his heels, his arms hanging limply at his side as he attempted to take a deep breath, tried to calm his heart, sniffling weakly as he inhaled deeply, dragging his wrist across his nose, tilting his head up to try to stay the flow of tears, his body shuddering from his barely contained grief.

He didn’t know how much time had passed and it didn’t matter, he stood up, going to the bathroom and doing his best to clean himself up, his eyes red and puffy from crying, from being so thoroughly traumatized by the bleach. He frantically scrubbed at his hands, the skin white and peeling from not using gloves, pouring the soap over top of them and using the hottest water he could withstand to remove the smell from them as best he could.

He grabbed the first aid supplies and a bowl of warm water, moving slowly toward Aoi who was still asleep on the couch, his voice soft, “That’s good…it’s good…”

He moved onto his knees, shuffling closer to her, his fingers taking a piece of gauze and dipping it into the water, then slowly, gingerly he cleaned her face, carefully removing the glass, gently cleaning the wounds and then bandaging up the cuts with clean gauze. He checked her arms, finding only minor scratches, applying some of the antibiotic ointment to them and then he shifted down her body, thoroughly inspecting her for injuries, gasping when he reached the bottom of her feet, finding them littered with tiny shards of glass.

He drug over the footstool, sitting on it as he glanced up at her, his heart thundering in his chest, “What were you  _doing_? What were you  _thinking_?”

He shook his head, grabbing the tweezers and other supplies and set about pulling the bits of glass from her flesh, setting them on a plate to dispose of after he’d finished. As he worked, he contemplated her, considered carefully her bubbles which didn’t seem aggressive now, but rather felt somehow friendly, almost inviting, like they were whispering words to him that nullified so many of his own destructive thoughts.

They were soft, and gentle when they’d brush against this skin, and he was not sure why they were different or what had changed but he was almost overwhelmingly glad for it.

Glad to be near her without the constant stabbing pain.

His mind was blank and he wondered at the silence, wondered at why the voice and the noise were quiet after all of the chaos, but he was thankful–for silence and for the bubbles that didn’t hurt.

_She’s different than anyone else._

_Even her bubbles are…they were before but that was because they hurt me…but now…they…they…they’re different._

_You love her._

Semi froze at the words, his eyes widening at the very thought of such a thing.

_I…I love her?_

_You do._

_It’s okay._

_It is?_

_Yes, it’s okay to love her._

Semi was highly suspicious of this voice, of  _anything_  within himself that wasn’t arrogant, abusive, or hateful. He had often wondered why he only had a single voice that always seemed to want to torture him, and in this moment he wondered how many other parts of himself might exist that could be kinder, gentler.

_She’s different, that’s why I love her._

_Yes._

_She’s pure and…she’s…she still has…_

_…a kind of…charm…like…like a child._

_Yes._

_Even though she drives me completely crazy…_

_…there’s the part of her…I think…it’s different and I love it._

_Yes._

_Is it okay?_

_What?_

_Is it okay if I do?_

_Is it okay if you love her?_

_Yes?_

_Yes._

He’d just pulled another shard of glass out of her foot, startling when her leg suddenly jerked outward, kicking him squarely in the shoulder, frowning when her eyes opened and her entire body bolted upright, “Calm the fuck down, Aoi!”

He wasn’t meaning to snap at her, but he’d about had all of the physical pain he could handle, his entire body tender and sore from the episode before, his free hand rubbing his shoulder as she looked at him, her eyes widening as she tried to make sense of what he was doing.

“Lay back down, I’m not done yet,” he spoke softly to her, trying to calm her down because she still had a lot of glass in her feet and the last thing he wanted was for her to press them further in by darting off away from him in her confusion.

He could tell she didn’t want to obey him, as usual, the part of her that always had to rub against him the wrong way clear, and at the same time he could tell that she was scared and unsure so he took a deep breath, keeping his voice calm and firm as he smiled, trying to impress upon her that he wasn’t trying to hurt her at all, “Aoi.”

He brushed his hand against her leg, pushing upward, reaching her stomach and pressing her back, “Lay back down. Let me finish.”

She swayed a little bit as she clearly debated what she should do and then she shifted slowly to lay back down, nodding as she watched him pick up the tweezers and begin working on the glass again.

He could tell she didn’t like it, he knew she wanted to fuss at him, but he saw her hands moving out of the corner of his eye, knowing she was wondering about the bandages on her face, and he had so many questions swelling up wanting to find purchase in his voice, the words whispered softly so she wouldn’t think he was upset with her or angry over it, “What were you doing, Aoi?”

“I-I was just looking outside,” she murmured, her eyes wide and child-like.

“Why did you walk on the glass?” That was the question he really wanted to understand, because maybe if he could make sense of that he could help her.

“I don’t know.”

He couldn’t stop the disapproval from showing on his face, a frustrated grunting noise issued as he shook his head, her body shifting a little bit so she could see him more clearly, her voice small, “Why are you helping me?”

He scoffed, not really wanting to answer, taking great care to spread the ointment on her foot, then fixated on the process of wrapping it in gauze.

“Semi,” her voice was louder, and he jerked in surprise, his eyes darting up to hers, her head tilting to the side as she spoke, “Why are you helping me?”

_Why am I helping you?_

_Because…because…_

_Your bubbles are soft._

_I think…I think they like me…_

_..and…you’re soft._

_Because…_

_I love you._

His mouth opened and closed as words rushed through his mind, so many feelings spreading through him at each one, then he sensed it, the internal shift so violent it nearly knocked him off the stool, having let his guard down, just for a moment, he felt the oncoming building noise in his ear, jerking his head to the side as his fingers grabbed onto his ear.

_NO!_

_Please, please go away!_

The voice, the one he loathed laughed at him, the mocking tone of voice making him shudder.

_But..but..but…_

He wanted to stab his ears to make the voice stop, because it was making fun of him, it was belittling him.

_But…but…I love her…_

_You idiot! You don’t love anyone or anything._

Semi shook his head, jerking on his ear harshly, screaming back at the voice.

_I do though, I do!_

He shifted, trying to ignore the voice, pressing himself close to her, keeping his eyes focused on her as the sound screamed in his ear.

_Don’t…_

_Don’t you dare, Semi!_

“Y-you…”

_Stop it!_

_I mean it!_

“…you st-still have–”

_NO!_

_Don’t tell her these secrets!_

“–ch-charm.”

The pain that was infusing his body with each syllable felt like electricity being shot through each of his blood vessels, his eyes wide and unsure when she spoke softly.

“Charm?”

_I want to tell her._

_Let me tell her, please!_

The noise, the voice flared up, like a beast rising up in front of him, threatening him, pressing him down, and he struggled, fighting through the screaming, through the pain to try to explain, “Y-you aren’t t-touched, t-tainted by the w-world…you’re still innocent.”

She laughed, clearly not aware of what he was going through, “Semi—I fucking kill people for a living, and I fucking like it—I’m as far from innocent as you can get.”

_It’s not like that!_

_It’s something different, something more._

His head jerked to the side repeatedly, his fingers clawing at his ear as the voice continued screaming at him.

He tilted forward, his eyes landing on her bubbles, and he felt instant comfort from them, as if though she was unaware of the battle happening in front of her–the bubbles recognized it, and wanted to help him. His hand drew forward slowly, caressing the bubbles as they brushed against his skin, allowing them to speak to the pain within, giving them the freedom to offer him comfort, and he knew without a doubt that the bubbles were different because they were  _hers_ , because of how he felt, how she made him feel, because he loved her.

“It—it’s all around y-you, Aoi,” he breathed out softly.

“What is, Semi?” her voice was a whisper.

“The bubbles, but…they’re different now. They’re…softer, they don’t hurt me now. Not anymore.”

“Are they…like the clam’s bubbles now?”

“No,” he whispered, his eyes wide as he tore his gaze away from the bubbles to look into her eyes, “Your bubbles are very different than theirs.”

“How?”

He wanted to explain it, he struggled to find the words, the voice, the noise still there, but somehow he wanted to laugh at it, because he knew that they were wrong, that  _this was right_ , that Aoi and her bubbles were  _good_ , they were  _healing_  for him, they wanted to _protect_  him and take care of him, not hurt him, not like the noise and the voices wanted to.

He smiled, touching the bubbles delicately, reverently, “Th-they’re y-yours.”

He felt the way the demons inside of himself flared up, angry and bitter, gnashing and gnawing at him, sensing the loss of control, like a caged animal whose self-preservation instinct kicks in, suddenly he felt like the world was darkening and the voice was screaming, the noise was piercing his eardrums, and he jerked up, pacing across the room, desperately grasping at his ear trying to make it stop–but he could tell..he could sense that he was still too weak for that–maybe in time, maybe with more time with Aoi and her bubbles he could be strong enough, but right now, he could tell the darkness was going to win.

_I won’t hurt her._

_You will._

_I won’t!_

_I will not!_

_She’s been hurt enough today, no more by my words, nor my hands._

_NO MORE._

He shook his head, and without another thought, he ran, intent on putting enough distance between the two of them that he couldn’t possibly hurt her no matter what–because in his mind, despite the hateful voices and terrible noise, there was a thread of something new that was weaving its way through all of the scrambled mess that was Semi.

**_Love._ **


	6. This Is Who I Am: Reference Post

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some notes and details that I think will help you better enjoy the story–please be sure to read the plethora of WARNINGS on the fic itself!

****

**This is what Semi looks like in the Manga^^^^**

PLEASE NOTE: There are spoilers after the Scene Reference Images!! These are meant to be read if you are curious after you read it about a few details that aren’t expressed in the story, but are true in the world the story takes place in.

They will be placed a bit away from the last image to ensure you won’t reach the spoilers if you are using the images!

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So, this story is based off of the movie AND the manga. I have taken characteristics of both characters and created a version I wanted to write about. I’ve included a reference image of the manga Semi up there for you to know what he looked like and to get a feel for his character. He is  **FAR MORE** outspoken and impulsive than what we see of him in the movie I think, and this is one part of his manga personality I moved into my story. He is also rather child-like in some ways.

This story takes place over the course of about 8-9 months. Semi is 22 in this story.  

You can read what I’ve been able to find of the manga { [ **HERE**](http://www.mangapanda.com/waltz) }

**I have based his childhood and such on the information from the Manga, filling in the gaps with my own creative license.**

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## This is the layout of the house they live in:

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##  **My playlist:**

[Animal I Have Become   Three Days Grace](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjpgaCT2KXVAhVDaD4KHXcvDl0QyCkIKzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dxqds0B_meys&usg=AFQjCNEbEGvOI-iX-8zL01n2CU-9OT6LWA)          Semi

[What I’ve Done               Linkin Park](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjxrtKj2aXVAhVMET4KHZysCQQQyCkIKzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D8sgycukafqQ&usg=AFQjCNG5WkT3soyVch9sQx1hUaVm0ikMrQ)                       Semi

[Victorious                       Panic at the Disco](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwi82vmt2aXVAhVCbT4KHS5xA_cQyCkIKzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DAUChk0lxF44&usg=AFQjCNFVK8gWMR6ZyBX-vJkhoI2oc4UlRw)             Semi

[What Have You Done     Within Temptation](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjXhqe42aXVAhXDFT4KHQZhDacQyCkIKzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DgEgXDhiayz4&usg=AFQjCNGcumOkvL8YbZbqTGKGhGSenNIFjA)             Both

[Madness                          Muse](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwiNsuO_2aXVAhWBaz4KHbXlC0oQyCkIKzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DEk0SgwWmF9w&usg=AFQjCNEMQ-NDL85iQ2aVf_Ul8B2XWNlAgQ)                                Both

[The Devil Within              Digital Daggers](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwj6iojI2aXVAhXCrD4KHTgOCZAQyCkIKzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DG049LeVG6BI&usg=AFQjCNENzQgpN219RUigM--ft9o7j_--Tw)                 Aoi

[Famous Last Words](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjA74vgo6bVAhVE2yYKHfEpClwQyCkIKzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D8bbTtPL1jRs&usg=AFQjCNEuv20onYbRoxhsJDrFWCHAeHuWHw)         [My Chemical Romance ](https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjA74vgo6bVAhVE2yYKHfEpClwQyCkIKzAA&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D8bbTtPL1jRs&usg=AFQjCNEuv20onYbRoxhsJDrFWCHAeHuWHw)   Aoi

 

##  **Specific to the last half of the final scene:  
** **[The Beginning                One Ok Rock](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DiT--PQ4_k8)                   BOTH**

 

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##  **Scene Reference Images:**

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## Part 1

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## Part 2

## Part 3

## Part 4

## Part 5

## Part 6

## Part 7

## Part 8

## Part 9

## Part 10

## Part 11

## Part 12

## Part 13 Beginning

  


## Part 13 End

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SPOILERS BELOW!

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Semi experienced the murder of his mother when he was 5.

When he was 10 he ran away from home and was taken into child trafficking and placed with his “owners”. His indoctrination and abuse began here.

When he was 14 they brought in the teacher to train him in how to ‘make people happy’. 

He worked for about a year for three women, and then the teacher started paying to have him exclusively.

He was 16 when he was forced to kill her, and then murdered his owners.

He met Iwanishi at that point, and 6 years have passed since he committed his first murder and when the story takes place.

* * *

About Semi and Aoi being intimate:

Semi is sterile, his owners did that to all their boys so that they did not have to concern themselves with unwanted pregnancies with their clients. No, neither of them actually CONSIDERED birth control, because they both lack a great deal in impulse control. The last thing these two would need would be a pregnancy, and they both would readily acknowledge that–they’re not stupid–so the conversation most certainly would be one they’d have the next day.

The abrubt change in Semi from the monster to a gentle lover–this may seem strange–but the first thing Semi knew, the first thing he was before he was everything else WAS a consummate lover. He was specifically created, trained to be exactly what he was supposed to be, a perfect lover–and he was excellent at it, which is why his teacher ‘adopted’ him. This would feel a lot to him like getting onto a bicycle after a long while, a little different, yet, simple, muscle memory, easy to be successful. So, that’s important to understand–this is who he was  _before_  he became a murderer.

Second, no one had ever said they loved him, and he never actually felt loved, apart from the woman who had trained him, and even when she said she loved him, he did not recognize it as a real love, a true love, because despite all of the roles she played with him, he did NOT see her as anything other than selfish ultimately. Despite feeling a form of affection for the woman who trained him, he mostly just felt debilitating guilt when he thought about her.

Aoi confessing her love, and him knowing her well enough to know that it was the absolute truth–that would go a long way to shutting down the monster–how long it’s hard to say, but certainly, the monster is long gone once he accepts her words as truth. He did, by the way, accept them BEFORE he entered her body.  **Had this factor not been present, he would not have done anything with her no matter what she said–because he swore he’d never be used again, and he meant it. He is NOT a rapist. He would NEVER have raped her, he was, as Aoi often admits, more in control of the monster than it appears sometimes.**

**He was trying to scare her away because HE WAS AFRAID.**

* * *

Finally, there is NOTHING healthy about the relationship between these two. They are two very disturbed, very dangerous, volatile, mentally ill people who have found some kind of solace in one another and yes, to the capacity they are capable of loving one another, they do, with all their hearts–and they would die for the other without thought. They would be that couple who does weird things like carving each other’s names on their skin, particularly because of their knife play. 

Honestly, I hope no one thinks that they are an “ideal” couple–I suppose for their circumstances this is a beautiful thing, and in my mind I consider that they might quit the assassination gig. Semi has made A LOT of money, and he’s tucked it away, because apart from his basic necessities, he never spent any of it. If they chose to leave and go where no one would know them, he would have more than enough money to do so and support them.

I feel that Aoi could stop killing, and not particularly struggle with it, despite missing it, but I can not be sure that Semi would be able to do so unless Aoi became hyper vigilant at controlling his moods and possibly getting him medicated. It’s up in the air for me right now as to whether she makes the noise go away ALL the time or not, but it seems to me that if he’s frustrated or angry with her, it would have a high possibility of returning, even if it was short lived.

If they did leave and start over again, neither of them could be successful holding down a normal job, so they would certainly still be involved in a life of crime, it’s just up in the air as to what they’d actually turn to if they chose to stop being assassins.

These are a few things I might explore in a drabble or two after I’ve had a chance to come out of the dark place Semi took me haha

THANK YOU FOR READING AND YOUR SUPPORT!


	7. Video Trailers (Fanmade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Videos contain spoilers!

‘This Is Who I Am’ Fan Video for my dearest sister, Juliet

Song: Blood Oath- Benjamin Wallfisch (from the ‘It’ soundtrack)

2nd ‘This Is Who I Am’ Fanvid for none other but my sweetest writing sister, Juliet  ( @jumping-girl-juliet )

Song: The Xx- Together

Warning: Video contains blood and some slight NSFW footage 

 

both videos created by [ymda-rysk](http://ymda-rysk.tumblr.com/post/167713242118/this-is-who-i-am-fan-video-for-my-dearest)

 


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